


May I Be Your Shield

by CheerUpLovely, GarbageChic



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 03, F/M, Post-Season/Series 02, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-13 23:44:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 77,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5721514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheerUpLovely/pseuds/CheerUpLovely, https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarbageChic/pseuds/GarbageChic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She could always tell him about her day. She could always tell him anything. Except she didn’t. The woman closest to him was keeping the biggest secret of all; a dark secret, a dangerous secret. Felicity Smoak is not safe, that much is true, but whether Oliver can save her from that is another matter. </p>
<p>Sooner or later, we find out exactly how far we’ll go to protect the person we love most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Firstly, a massive thanks to @aussieforgood, not just for the beautiful artwork she’s created for this story, but for the amazing support and input while planning. Writing this with her has been absolutely incredible and I’ve loved every second of it - thank you so much!
> 
> Secondly, this story is going to have trigger warnings. Lots of them. They’ll start from the next chapter and they’ll be continuous, and yes, they will be tagged. Buckle up people. It’s going to be a big one.

It was remarkable, really, when he stopped to think about it. Felicity Smoak, she was remarkable. And he did stop to think about it. A lot, actually. A lot more than he should, that was for sure. He thought about her a lot more than he should do. But that wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t at all his fault that she was as radiant as the sun and twice as warm. She was worth paying attention to. Felicity Smoak was colourful, a bright smile in a world of scowls, and how could he not be drawn to the alluring nature of Felicity Smoak when she was so captivating?

Felicity Smoak was a woman wise beyond her years. There was more wisdom in her twenty-four years than he’d found in anyone else. She certainly knew him better than anyone else did, even those who claimed to know him with more familiarity than they knew themselves. She was bravery, she was laughter, she was beauty. She was the heart and soul of this team they’d settled into, and the fact that she had spent even the slightest portion of her day doubting her place in that team made a part of his chest clench up, a fist closing around the part of himself that he reserved purely for the swing in her step and the smile on her lips.

Even then, with oxycodone flowing through her veins and four stitches in her right shoulder, she held a smile he could only describe as ‘adorable’. She steadied her swaying form with hands clenched to the table edge, but her legs swung above the floor. Earlier she’d been wearing heels, but she’d slipped them off and Sara had put them safely off to one side until she was steadier on her feet. She leaned into his hand on her cheek, humming contently and for a moment, her sweetness combined with the sight of her in a spare shirt of his he just...allowed himself a moment. 

A moment that faded quickly when the shoulder of the shirt slipped down and revealed a string of bruises across her upper arm. 

“Felicity…” he prompted, ignoring the fabric gathered in the crook of her elbow as he gently reached out for her.

She mumbled when the cradle of his hand left her cheek, but kept her eyes on him. “Your hands are warm,” she told him. “Do you have fleece inside your gloves? You must do, because the leather looks expensive, which means they’re fancy--”

“Felicity, where did you get these bruises?” he asked, his focus taking in the size and shape of each blemish to her skin. 

“What bruises?” she asked, looking down at her arm alongside him. “I don’t have bruises.”

“Yes, you do. They’re all down your arm,” he pointed out, tracing the path. With a sickening jolt of his stomach, he realised he could cover them entirely with the shape of his hand. It was a handprint. 

“Oh,” she uttered. “I think I got them when I fell.”

Oliver didn’t believe her for a second. “A fall caused all these?” he asked, following the outline of the hand print and squinting a little in the dim light to try and ascertain if he could see a thin line of scar tissue near her elbow. 

“I got shot, I fell on things,” she reeled off, one hand waving through the air. “I don’t really remember a lot because Digg’s aspirins made my head fuzzy.” Her head tilted as she looked up at him. “Aspirin never made my head fuzzy before.”

“I don’t think he gave you aspirin,” he indulged her with a loud whisper. 

Her lips parted, her expression scandalised as she drew in a gasp and whispered back to him. “Naughty Digg.”

“Clever Digg,” he corrected her, turning his attention back to her arm. “Do these hurt?”

“Not right now,” she shook her head. 

Of course, nothing was going to hurt her after the oxycodone. “They look like they’re going to be painful,” he noted, stepping away from her for a moment. He went over to the wooden crate that contained his last remnants of island memories - the tools to his identity that he so rarely needed to consult after they’d set up such a well-working team - and returned with a small tub. “I want you to take this with you for the morning, okay?”

“Your magic island cream?” she asked, as if he had gifted her with his firstborn instead of a healing salve.

“Put some on after you shower,” he instructed her, trying to make sure she was listening thoroughly, but judging from the way her hands toyed with the pot he wasn’t sure she’d remember what he said. “It’ll work better on loose muscle, but remember to mind your shoulder. Try not to get that dressing wet for a couple of days.” She nodded, but again, he could sense her distraction. “Will you need any help?”

Her head shot up at the offer, her cheeks already burning red. “In the shower? From you?” she squeaked.

“Not from me,” he assured her. “I meant, you’ll want to wash your hair, I’m sure, and if you’re worried about getting your stitches wet I’m sure Sara could--”

“It’s okay,” she rushed to cut him off, her shoulders, hunching forwards as her hands clasped around the pot. “I have...someone.”

“Oh!” he said, his hand instinctively drawing away from her arm. 

“Like...a person,” she explained vaguely, as if any more detail than that would be too much. He had no right to pry, however, given how many things he had hidden from her, and may never truly reveal to her.

“A boyfriend,” he filled in for her. He wondered if, given their working proximity, if she were hesitant to tell him she had a boyfriend. Perhaps it was because he’d been so adamant that he couldn’t live this life and be with someone he cared about. 

She bit her lip. “I just-”

“That’s good,” he assured her, though he had to admit he was shrouding a heavy disappointment in his tone. “That means you’ll have all the help you need for the next day.”

“I guess so,” she agreed quietly.

When her eyes flickered down to the ground, he followed them, noticing that her feet were no longer swinging. She appeared downtrodden, almost mournful in her demeanor and he could barely recognise this person as Felicity. His Felicity. 

So he placed his hand back on her cheek, and watched the adoring smile return to her face. “But let me know if you need anything,” he urged her. “Any time, day or night. Since you didn’t want to go to the hospital, we definitely need to keep you out of the emergency room.”

“Thank you,” she beamed at him.

\---

Her text message came through three months later. 

_ I’m at the foundry. I need help. _

_ Please.  _


	2. Chapter One

Summer had just begun, and in the aftermath of Slade’s mirakuru control over the city, they found that crime was becoming rather limited in the city. Things became, for lack of a better term, easy. It was a grand shift from last year when he had separated himself from the team as a means to control his grief. Oliver’s chest still ached with the loss of his mother, moreso now that Thea had decided to disappear to Europe. 

But Felicity was a constant. Without the usual working day to have her close to him, Oliver found himself looking forward to their evenings together even more. Even though it was never the two of them, he craved those moments where he could surround himself with her laughter, her happiness, her...everything.

But recently, it had stopped.

Recently, she had been quieter, more reserved. He’d asked her about it a few times but she always brushed it aside as job hunting, or not sleeping properly. But when her message came through a few hours after they’d left for the night, a little after ten o’clock, asking for help, he’d rushed back there with a sinking sensation in his stomach.

And rightly so.

“Felicity?” he called as he descended the stairs. He couldn’t see much in the darkness, but there was light pooling in from around her computers and when he stepped closer he could see her back hunched over in her chair. Her shoulder trembled at the sound of his voice, and a single sound resonated through the open space that had his blood running cold.

A sob.

The last twenty metres of space were taken at a run, bolting over to her side. What caught his gaze first was the way she cradled her left arm in her lap, tenderly holding it with the other. It was almost bloodied in appearance, where the bruising was so severe, blackening in the centre of a far-too-swollen limb. He was dropping down to his knee in an instant, reaching out to inspect it closer, but she pulled it away from him with a whimper of hesitance. When he glanced up to her, he was met with a far worse sight;, one that he couldn’t deny had haunted several nightmares of his.

“Oh,  _ Felicity… _ ”

She looked like him on a bad day. On a terrible day. Oh, God, such beauty shouldn’t be so destroyed. Her left eye was puffed through the bruise, inflamed with an angry pain that he could feel matching within the pit of his stomach. Her lower lip was split, void of its usual colour in lieu of the violent scarlet that spilled from it, cut only by the cleansing path of her tears.. His horrified gasp slipped through before he could hold it back and she jerked her face away from him.

“Look at me,” he choked out, reaching for the uninjured side of her face to try and turn her back to him. She merely leaned into his hand to try and push further back from him. “No, no, no, look at me,” he urged her. 

It took some maneuvering, but he finally managed to bring her eyes back to his. To see her so tear-stained and fearful made the rage swell within him.

“Who did this?” he asked her.

She shook her head, her eyes flickering away and back to his several times. “He’s going to be so mad--”

“Felicity, who did this to you?” he asked her again.

“He’ll be so mad-”

“Felicity, whoever did this, tell me where I can find him so I can  _ kill  _ him!” he urged her, his free hand gripping tightly to the arm of her chair in fear that his anger would be expelled too close to her. 

“He’ll be _so_ _mad_ ,” she repeated. Her voice was wavering so badly that she didn’t even sound like herself. His Felicity didn’t sound like this. She didn’t sound so terrified, so unsure, so desperate. His Felicity was brave and unafraid, her voice was a song that even soothed his own unrest at times when it threatened to drown him. “He told me not to leave and I left, he’ll be so angry when he finds out, Oliver…”

“ _ Felicity _ !” he snapped, to get her to focus back on him, but her reaction to his raised tone made everything fall into place.

She flinched away from him, as if he had frightened her. Her arm was drawn up against herself despite the pain it must have caused her, but it was put before her as if she could use it as a shield between them. She shut her eyes tightly, pinched skin wrinkling through the tender skin near her temple. “I’m sorry!” she whimpered, a high-pitched tone rushing into her voice as shut herself away from him.

His stomach sank as it all came together. Midnight cries for help. Defensive injuries. Apologies. Someone wasn’t just hurting her; someone was abusing her. Another emotion stirred so quickly it overwhelmed the rage within him. Devastation. He knew this feeling well, but he had so rarely experienced it without the bitterness of mourning that followed. This was a pain shielded only by his own rage, and as the two combined he started to settle into a level of quiet that he’d only ever witnessed in his mother before - an anger so vast and so strong that it was met with a soft voice and quiet eyes.

He placeds his hands calmly on the arm of either side of the chair, hoping to remove any part of himself that she might see as a threat. “Hey, hey, I’m sorry,” he murmured, dropping down to the tone that he only seemed to reserve for her. “I didn’t mean to shout, I’m sorry.”

“Please, don’t get mad at me,” she begged through her frightened eyes. “It was an accident. I’m not supposed to make him angry, it was all just an accident.”

“Felicity…” he whispered, gently reaching for her arm, which she only recoiled from him again. “This doesn’t look like an accident.”

“I won’t do it again, I  _ swear _ ,” she told him through her sobs. “I’m  _ so  _ sorry.”

“Shh, take a breath,” he encouraged her. Her ragged inhale that followed wasn’t nearly enough to calm her. “Don’t apologise to me, everything’s going to be okay. I need you to take a breath for me. Can you do that? In and out, nice and easy.” This time, she seemed to listen, and he took several long breaths alongside her though it did nothing to quench the desire to avenge her pain. “That’s it, good girl,” he praised her. “Who did this?”

She shook her head. “I can’t tell you,” she whispered. “He’ll be so angry-”

“You can always tell me about your day, remember?” he said softly, looking up at her frightened face with as much of a smile as he could generate. It turned out to be nothing more than an emotional grimace.

The decline was softer this time. She wanted to tell him, he knew that much, but her fear was overpowering her reason. “Please, don’t be mad at me,” she pleaded with him again, her voice far gentler. 

“Felicity, I’m not mad at you, I promise,” he assured her, boldly reaching up to push her hair back behind her ear. This time, her eyes remained on his and she didn’t flinch away from him. “Can I see your wrist, please?” he asked her.

She looked down at it. He could see the inner turmoil, but he had to believe that she wanted his help if she’d called him in the middle of the night. If her instinct had been to come to him then he wasn’t going to let her down. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, hon, I just need to see if it’s broken,” he whispered.

“I can’t-”

“If you can’t tell me, that’s okay,” he assured her. “You don’t have to tell me right now. Whoever did this isn’t as important as making sure that you’re okay. So first thing’s first, we need to see if anything’s broken. Can we do that?” 

She relinquished her hold on her arm gradually, extending it out to him. He muttered a small ‘ _ good girl _ ’, as he let her cradle her hand in the larger palm of his, as he gently ran his fingers over her injury. Every time she sucked in a pained gasp, he could feel his stomach twisting in disgust. After, he set it down in her lap gently, and raised his hands up to her face. He could feel her fighting not to lean into his touch as he probed at the bruising to her face, until he could feel her beginning to tremble and he moved back. 

“All done,” he whispered to her. “The bruising on your face won’t be anything to worry about, it’ll go down in a few days, but I think your wrist is broken so we do need to get you to the hospital.”

The moment the last word left his lips she was shaking her head again, backing away from him as far as she could in the chair. “I can’t go to the hospital,” she protested. “He’ll find me there. He’ll know to look for me there.”

“Felicity-”

“ _ Please _ don’t take me there,” she begged.

He knew he should take her. But he also knew that raising the alarm of the doctors there might  trigger a police response, and she knew that. Felicity was smart enough to know what would happen with this situation if she went to a hospital, and she’d called him because she was trying to avoid it. Because Oliver could remove bullets with a mere grit of his teeth, Oliver could survive poisoning down here, Oliver could stitch anything up, give her something for the pain and Oliver, above all, could not deny her anything.

His head dipped with a sigh before his gaze was back on her. “This is what we’re going to do,” he decided. “We’re going to see to your bruises, and we’ll see if the swelling starts to go down over the next few hours with some ice. If it does, we might be able to do something without medics, but we do need to go to the hospital if it’s urgent, okay?” She nodded, albeit reluctantly.  “Felicity, it’s important that you trust me on this. When I say we need to go to the hospital, then you need to let me take you. Do you understand?” He waited for her next nod before he mimicked it. “Let’s get you lying down so I can take a better look at the bruising,” he coaxed. 

He didn’t wait for her to take his hand, instead bending and lifting her into his arms. It was the most she’d allowed him to touch her since he arrived in the foundry, but there was no protest from her. Instead she seemed to curl into him, to seek refuge in his touch as though he might truly be able to separate her from her pain. All the times he’d held her in times of pain, carried her from crushed vehicles, jumped through sheet windows, crossed elevator shafts...she’d never curled into him in this manner, as if she belonged there, as if she’d found a safety blanket she needed to cling to before it was taken from her.

It made him want to kill the person responsible for this.

It made him want to never let her go.

When he tried to set her down, she stiffened against him, so he held her with one arm as he searched for one of the thick blankets to lay beneath her. Once he had her down, she rolled onto her side, watching him move around as she closed in on herself. First things first, they needed some privacy. Diggle would come in early in the morning sometimes, and he sent him as much of an explanation text as he could - stating only that Felicity had been mugged and they were waiting it out to see if they could avoid the hospital. By the time he had searched through the meticulously organised drawers, Diggle had responded. 

He approached her with the basic first-aid kit, wanting to see a thorough extent of her injuries before he gave her anything for the pain. “I’ve asked Digg to give us a few hours privacy,” he explained softly as he drew a stool up to the side of the table, right by her head. “But if we need to go to the hospital, he’ll come get us. I only have my bike and I didn’t see your car out front.”

“No,” she protested again, shaking her head as she scooted back from him. 

Any mention of the hospital was panicking her, and he had to steady his hand against her shoulder. “Felicity, try not to move too much-”

“Please, don’t,  _ ah _ !” she cut off with a pained cry, her injured hand flying around her torso.

Oliver was instantly on his feet, leaning over her as the stool kicked back away from him. “What is it? What hurts?”

“No, no,” she gasped in, screwing her eyes shut tightly as a new wave of panic set over her face. “No, please, no…”

“Felicity, talk to me,” he urged. “Is it your stomach? Your ribs?” He tugged her arm away with more force than he’d have liked, lifting the hem of her sweater as to reveal a deep purple bruise setting in over her side, particularly setting in on her hipbone and lower stomach. “ _ Felicity… _ ”

“Is it bad?” she asked, not opening her eyes to look herself. “I tried to protect it, I swear. I covered it with my arm but then he got angry and he grabbed it and I felt it snap, and...and it’s bad, isn’t it? Please, tell me it’s okay, tell me it’ll be okay--”

“You were covering your stomach,” he realised with a weight in his own, skating his hand over her marred skin. “You were protecting something.”

“ _ Please _ tell me it’ll be okay-”

He dropped her sweater, moving back up to her head and cupping her cheeks in both hands. “Felicity, are you pregnant?” he asked her.

She swallowed thickly, fresh tears rolling onto her cheeks from behind closed lids and dampening his fingertips as . “Oliver,  _ please- _ ”

“Felicity,  _ look at me _ ,” he urged, until she opened her eyes at last. “This is important. Are you pregnant?”

She heaved in a fearful breath, shuddering in the mouthful as a single word croaked through her lips that had him reaching for his phone. “ _ Yes _ .”

\---

 

Oliver had visited Starling General Hospital far too often in the last two years. Sometimes for himself, sometimes for family, but he knew which of the two he would suffer out of choice. He’d seen his mother here, his sister, Walter, Laurel and… not her. Never her. Even with a bullet in her shoulder he’d kept her out of the hospital and she’d been fine. When they arrived in the emergency room, her cradled in his arms and Diggle coming up behind them, the nurse took one look at her shattered in Oliver’s arms and admitted her immediately. Oliver set her on the stretcher that was brought towards them, but she refused to let go of his hand.

“Miss, can you tell me your name?”

“Felicity Smoak,” he told the nurse. “I’m Oliver Queen, I want you to treat her under my insurance. Whatever she needs, it goes on the Queen insurance under the trustee name of Walter Steele--”

“Sir, can you tell us what happened?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I think she was mugged.” It was the most convincing lie he could think of, knowing she didn’t want them knowing the truth, but she yelped when he let go of her to put her on the stretcher. “Be careful! She’s pregnant!” he protested.

He felt the eyes of everyone on him, especially Diggle, but those were the two words that put everything into action.

They were taken straight to trauma, as much as the nursing team tried to get Oliver to wait outside, he wasn’t having any of it. She’d never held onto him so tightly before, not even when they’d been inside Merlyn Global and she’d had to for dear life, not even when they’d had to jump out of the window at Queen Consolidated, nor when they’d jumped out of the clock tower during Slade’s siege of the city.

“Sir, if you aren’t family, you need to-”

“I am  _ not  _ leaving her,” he insisted.

She kept her face turned to him, her eyes screwed shut, and she barely reacted as they took her wrist and started inspecting the bruising on her stomach. Once they touched her stomach, she jolted away, thrashing out. “ _ No _ !”

“Felicity, it’s  _ okay _ !” Oliver rushed, trying to ease her back to him without causing her any pain. “It’s okay, they’re not going to hurt you.”

The doctor entered as she was backing away. “Miss Smoak, you’re in good hands, I need you to lie back down for me so we can see what’s going on.”

“It was my fault,” she insisted, shaking her head as she recoiled from the doctor. “It was just an accident, I made him mad-”

Oliver could see in the doctor’s eyes the exact moment when he realised what was happening. Of course he would see it, of course he would know the warning signs of abuse, and here she was, with a man who was ruthlessly determined not to leave her alone, with a man who was answering for her, a man who she was cowering towards. He straightened, fixing Oliver with a determined look. “Sir, I have to ask you to leave.”

“No,” he stated, when he felt Felicity grip his forearm.

“I’m afraid it wasn’t a request, Mr. Queen.”

Before he could deny it another time, he noticed the presence of security at the door and faltered slightly. “ _ No _ , I didn’t do this, I didn’t hurt her,” he choked out, the mere idea tightening his throat. “I would never hurt her-”

“It’s protocol in delicate situations,” the doctor explained, though his gaze was unwavering.

It took three security guards to get him as far as the door before Felicity was trying to follow him, nurses restraining her as she fought to get her hold back on him. He hadn’t been this far away from her since the moment he’d seen her injuries and when he looked back he saw a far more troubling sight than he had earlier. She looked at him like a scared child, begging for protection, begging not to be left, and when he was about to fight back she found her voice at last.

“No, I  _ need  _ him!”

The doctor turned to her, setting a hand on her shoulder. “Miss Smoak, I assure you, you’re perfectly safe here-”

“I don’t care, I want  _ Oliver _ ,” she insisted, her voice pained as if he were denying her a favoured toy. “He didn’t do this. He’s never hurt me. He’s the only one who keeps me safe.” Her chest heaved as she held back her tears. “ _ Please _ , you don’t understand, he’s all I have.”

He shrugged off the grasp of the security guards and strode across the room until his arms were around her shoulders and he was holding her head against his chest. She stopped fighting, pressing her forehead at the spot where his heart staggered uneven beats, only for her. “I’m right here,” he assured her, pressing his lips firmly to her parted hairline. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here with you.”

“Let’s calm this down, shall we?” the doctor suggested, drawing a chair up to the side of the bed so he was level with Felicity. Oliver didn’t move. He held her against him, and she had no intention of pulling away. The doctor, on the other hand, addressed her directly, and at least he didn’t have to adjust her hold for her to respond. Several staff members left at his insistence, and then it was just the two of them, the doctor, and a nurse. “Miss Smoak, do you mind if I call you Felicity?” She shook her head. “And this is your...friend?”

“Oliver’s my best friend,” she corrected tearfully. “Can he stay?”

“He can stay,” the doctor agreed, though it didn’t relax Oliver anymore. “I need to ask you some questions, if that’s okay?” She fell silent again. “You don’t have to tell me anything that you don’t want to, and your friend may be able to help us as well.”

This time, she nodded, though the action merely triggered a brush of Oliver’s lips against her forehead.

“Your friend told the nurse outside that you’re pregnant, is that true?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Do you have an OBGYN yet?” he asked. She shook her head. “Do you know how far along you are?” Again, she shook her head. “When did you find out?”

“Last week,” she muttered. 

“How have you been feeling since? Any sickness?”

“A little.”

“It may not feel like it, but that’s a good sign. It means your body is reacting to the new changes. You have a bruise on your stomach, though. Did you get your injuries at the same time?”

She tensed in his arms. “Yes.”

“Are you familiar with a concept called ‘mechanism of injury’?” he asked. She shook her head. “Felicity, I understand if you don’t want to disclose certain information,” the doctor acknowledged. “But mechanism of injury is vital for us to know. How your injuries were caused can be important in deciding how we examine and treat your injuries, and that could be especially important to your baby right now. I have to ask you, has someone been hurting you?”

She was still for the longest moment, and Oliver was somewhat glad he couldn’t see her face. It was only her vice grip on his arm and her head against his chest that stopped him flying into a rage. It was the only way he knew how to react in a situation where a loved one had been hurt. He wanted to go out, wanted to find out where she’d been, who she’d been seeing, and unleash hell on whoever had hurt her. But she needed him there, at her side, and how could he deny her that? He couldn’t deny her anything. It was Felicity.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Has it just been physical abuse?”

She went silent, rigid, and clung to Oliver. It told him all that he needed to know, that it hadn’t just been physical, that it had been worse - far worse. He couldn’t help it. His chest heaved and he held her a little tighter, a little closer, as if his arms were strong enough to turn back time and erase her suffering. “Oh,  _ God _ ,  _ Felicity _ ,” he half-whimpered into the top of her head. The gravity of the situation was choking him, building up in his chest while he so badly wanted to be strong for her. 

“I’m  _ sorry _ ,” she spoke through a sob, the sound muffled against his shirt. 

“I’m going to get you away from all of this,” he swore, his head ducking down to her ear, completely ignoring the doctor. “I won’t  _ ever  _ let anyone hurt you again, I  _ promise  _ you. Nobody’s ever going to hurt you again. Do you understand me? I will keep you safe. I will make all of this stop.”

“I have to strongly recommend that this is reported to the police, Felicity,” the doctor told her. “I can’t report this unless I have your permission.”

“No,” she whispered.

Oliver pulled back a little so he could cradle her face. “Felicity, you have to-”

“ _ No _ ,” she repeated, swallowing thickly. “I don’t want to.”

“Felicity, we can get you access to phenomenal resources,” the doctor offered. 

“I don’t  _ want  _ resources,” she shook her head, her tone broken and oh-so-tired. She returned her face to Oliver’s chest, taking her gaze away from the doctor as she clung to him. Her uninjured hand flexed and closed around a handful of his shirt. “I just want  _ you _ .”

“Felicity-” the doctor started again, but Oliver intervened, shaking his head.

“She said she doesn’t want it,” he told him. “If she changes her mind, I’ll make sure it’s reported personally,” he assured him. “But right now, she doesn’t want it.”

The doctor looked as though he was going to disagree, but instead took a breath. “Felicity, first things first, I’d like to get an internal examination done so we can ensure your baby is in good health, and then we’ll get you down to x-ray and see to your wrist. Is that okay with you?”

Her breath hitched, and Oliver frowned. “Wait, an internal...what does that involve?” he asked.

“If the pregnancy is very early on, we may not be able to see much with an abdominal ultrasound, although we will still do one to check for any signs of internal bleeding” the doctor explained. “We may have to consider a vaginal ultrasound to get a better idea of what’s going on. But given the circumstances I’d like an examination to be carried out to ensure that there are no internal injuries or infections.”

Her fist clenched in his shirt. “Is that optional?” Oliver asked.

“She has the right to refuse any treatment, but at this stage we really do need to ensure that both her and her baby are safe.” He looked back to Felicity. “If you feel more comfortable with a female doctor, I can send for one.”

She didn’t answer him, only raised her head to Oliver. The terrified expression on her face had him turning around and uttering “female,” at the doctor, who left shortly after. The moment the door shut, Oliver’s hand ran up through her hair, his lips returning to the top of her head. “You’re doing great, Felicity.”

“I don’t like this,” she muttered into his chest. “I want this to stop.”

“I know, hon, I know. It’s almost over, you heard him. They’re going to check the baby, then they’re going to fix your arm, and then that’s it, all done,” he assured her. She didn’t say anything in reply, and any other time he might have indulged in the idea that she seemed to be inhaling his scent through his shirt. “Do you want me to stay through the exam?” he offered.

“You will?” she asked.

“If you want me to stay, I’ll stay.” 

Staying turned out to be the second hardest thing he’d ever done - the hardest being entertaining the mere idea of waiting outside so she had privacy. When the female doctor returned, it had taken a few moments to get Felicity comfortable lying down. Oliver sat on the edge of her bed, his back to the doctor as he leaned over her slightly. He didn’t lower over her enough to pin her in or frighten her, but just enough that his form entirely blocked the doctor from her view. It had been easy then, to take her good hand, his free one stroking her cheek and repeat  _ ‘eyes on me _ ’ until she was breathing a little easier.

But then the doctor started her work, and her saw her entire body tense, her eyes slamming shut as she whined in discomfort. 

“It’s okay, it’s alright,” he repeated, uncertain what else he could say in that moment. “Just relax, I’m right here. You’re doing great, Felicity.”

But she remained tense, with tears rolling over her cheeks until he was wiping them away as they surfaced, gentle hushes passing from his lips as he tried to soothe her, even a little. It was a gruelling few minutes, perhaps some of the longest of Oliver’s life as he tried to comfort her, but she let out a long, shuddered breath as the doctor moved around, clearly finished. She came to the other side of the bed with a tube of gel in her hand. 

“Okay, Felicity, everything looks good on your exam. There’s nothing to worry about. Now shall we see if we can take a look at your baby?”

She swallowed, but put her legs down from the position they’d been fixed into moments before. Her eyes went to Oliver’s, and she gasped when the gel was spread over her stomach. “Hey,” he whispered, still gripping her hand. “You don’t have to look, if you’re not ready. It’s okay.”

She nodded, and he kept his eyes glue to hers. There was a silence in the room, until suddenly there was a fast, constant whooshing sound that rushed through the room. He tore his eyes away from Felicity’s, looking at the doctor. “What is that?”

“That’s the baby’s heartbeat,” the doctor told him, and Felicity let out a gasp. “I know it sounds fast, but that’s okay, that’s perfectly normal, it means your baby is nice and strong. From the size, I’d say you’re about nine weeks along.”

Nine weeks. Oliver tried not to think about how much danger she’d been in during the field work alone in the last nine weeks, let alone what she’d been going home to. Nine weeks that it could have been two lives lost, not just one. Nine weeks of Felicity being a mother. Nine weeks of a little, tiny person growing inside her. 

“You hear that?” Oliver murmured to her, his thumb stroking over her cheekbone once more. “Nice and strong. Baby’s okay.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to look?” the doctor asked, glancing at Felicity’s turned head.

But as she shook her head, Oliver looked up. And he saw it. He saw her baby.

He saw a blurry little bean shape that barely formed a human being yet, and that tiny creature was in her. She was growing it. That tiny baby was going to grow up, grow strong, grow to call her Mom. He was looking at Felicity’s baby. He could hear Felicity’s baby’s heartbeat. He could even see the flicker on the screen that matched the whooshing sound. And it was --

“What is it?” Felicity asked, fixated on his face.

He swallowed as he leaned a little closer, looking back at her. “I saw it,” he told her, as if sharing a secret with her. “I saw your baby.”

Her breath hitched again. “Is it…?”

“It’s... _ amazing _ ,” he assured her, his breath huffing out in disbelief. “It’s really amazing.”

“I...don’t think I can look,” she mumbled. 

“That’s okay, I looked,” he assured her. “Now we know for sure it’s perfectly safe, perfectly healthy.”

Her face crumpled a little. “So I protected it? I kept it safe?” she checked, her voice cracking.

He nodded, wiping the tear that slipped onto her cheek. “You kept it safe. You did good. There’s a tiny little person growing inside you.” He couldn’t help the tiny slip of a smile that hooked the corner of his mouth. “A little you. A tiny,  _ beautiful  _ little you.”

For the first time, her sigh was one of relief, and suddenly, the image of the little bean-shaped baby was gone. The doctor gave them both a smile. “The baby looks fine, and there’s no sign of any internal injuries or bleeding to be concerned about, so I’ll go ahead and let radiology know to bring you down for an x-ray.”

“Thank you,” Oliver muttered at the doctor, without drawing his eyes away from Felicity.

He didn’t think he’d be taking his eyes off her for some time.

\--

It seemed like hours later when they finally left the hospital, and the sun was rising over Starling City as they entered Oliver’s hotel room. He guided her inside, his hand inches away from the small of her back but the gesture remaining just as protective as if he’d been touching her. Her steps were sluggish as she walked, due to the painkillers the hospital had given her for her wrist. She’d been hesitant at first, but they assured her that everything they’d prescribed her was safe for the baby as long as she was vigilant about her dosage.

It had taken some time for her to be released, given that Oliver only had a hotel room to take her back to. He’d first had to assure her that it was the right place for them to go, and then assure the doctors, but it did make sense - no one could trace her there. He still didn’t know what kind of person she was trying to get away from, and in a hotel room it’d be nearly impossible for him to track her down. He’d been able to explain what had happened to Diggle while Felicity was getting an x-ray done, and he still wasn’t sure how he’d managed to repeat it without breaking down like she had. Perhaps it was because she was being wheeled back in by the doctors as he’d finally finished, and he’d been able to read each moment of separation on her features. Perhaps it was because he knew she needed him to be strong for her, and he’d already slipped a few times at that. 

When he lead her inside his hotel room, the door clicked shut quietly behind them and he immediately locked it. The ‘do not disturb’ sign was a permanent addition on the outside handle since he’d arrived at this hotel a week ago - the last hotel at which he was owed a favour. “Sorry about the mess,” he mumbled, looking out at everything he’d discarded the night before when he’d rushed to meet her. “I know it’s just a small room, but you can take the bed. The couch pulls out, I’ll sleep on that.”

She nodded slightly, still looking around the room. “Thank you,” she whispered. 

She looked so small, clad in rumbled clothing, her arm cradled to her in a sling. He sometimes forgot that she was that much younger than him, but today he could have easily mistaken her for Thea’s age. She had the look of a lost little girl, far from home, and he supposed that she was. There were no home comforts for her here. Nothing familiar nothing warm, nothing...except him. 

He cleared his throat, his hands rubbing over his thighs before he pointed to a door off the side of the room. “The bathroom’s through there if you want to wash up. I’ll get… is there anything you need?”  he asked. “I can ask the front desk if they have anything…”

She remained silent, but then nodded. “Would they have a hairbrush maybe?” she asked. “And a toothbrush?”

“Of course, I’ll ask the concierge to bring something up,” he assured her. They always carried emergency supplies behind the front desk, they were probably for purchase, but he was sure the staff would allow him one more favour. “Are you comfortable in that?” he asked, indicating to her oversized sweater and thin sweatpants. “If not, you can use something of mine…”

“Thank you,” she whispered with another small nod.

He dug through the opened suitcase at the foot of the bed, taking out a green t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that would tie at the waist to fit her better. He folded them, placing the pile on her outstretched hand and she muttered the same thanks again. “It’s clean, I promise,” he assured her.

“I mean…” she stopped, taking a breath. “Thank you, for...tonight. Today. You didn’t have to do any of that.”

“Yes, I did,” he said.

“Oliver-”

He placed his hand on her elbow. “When it comes to you, Felicity, I’d do whatever it takes. You know that.”

She looked down as if steeling herself. Of course she knew that. There had never been at time that Oliver hadn’t come through for her when she’d asked him to. If only she’d asked him sooner? Well, that didn’t bear thinking about. Of course he’d have gotten her away in a heartbeat, like he’d done now. 

“Still, I think I owe you an explanation,” she mumbled.

“An explanation?” she frowned.

“The truth,” she corrected herself.

“You don’t owe me anything, Felicity,” he assured her. “Don’t feel obligated to tell me anything.” She nodded, still looking down, and he could feel the disappointment seeping through beneath her relief. He drew in a breath, stroking his thumb over the crook of her elbow as his voice lightened a little. “But if you want to talk, if it’ll help...I’ll always listen.”

This time, her eyes raised to his, gratefulness visible beneath the haze of painkillers. “Okay.” He knew it then - everything she held back because she didn’t want anyone to know was starting to break through her remarkable exterior. Now, someone knew. Oliver knew. And more so, he knew her. She knew she could talk to Oliver, and knew she could trust him, and now she needed to trust him because she didn’t have anyone else.

He squeezed her arm gently before he released it. “Take your time, get washed up and comfortable. I’ll ask room service to bring something up.”

She disappeared into the bathroom, and he noticed that she did lock the door behind her. He made a call through to room service when he heard the taps running, and within moments they had brought some extra toiletries to the room along with the requested hairbrush and toothbrush. He’d also ordered two hot chocolates. She’d mentioned feeling cold on the car journey home, he suspected from the local anesthesia they’d given her before fixing her arm, and if they were going to talk he wanted to make sure she had something warm to drink first. 

He knocked on the door lightly and passed through the hairbrush and the toothbrush, and when she appeared a few moments later she was struggling to attach her sling. He took it from her, slipping it over her neck and holding it in place as she placed her cast back into place and adjusted it comfortably. Her movements were still sluggish, but she appeared calmer for it, at least. The trembling had ceased, at least, and her determination to be close to him made it easier for him to touch her without flinching. 

She made her way to the bed, sliding her legs beneath the duvet before she crossed them like a school-child, taking the warm mug that he offered her. He hesitated for a moment, but eventually sat down opposite her, mimicking her position with his own mug. She was silent as she drank, he couldn’t remember if he’d seen her eat the day before. At least this way she’d have a little sugar in her system, for the baby’s sake if nothing else.

When she was finished, he placed her mug back on the side unit and took her warmed hand in his. It was time to talk.

“Will you tell me who he is?” he asked.

She swallowed first. “His name is Darren,” she said, not divulging anything further.

“He’s your boyfriend,” he assumed.

She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I don’t know. Not any more.”

“He hurts you,” Oliver whispered.

“He didn’t always,” she explained with a shake of her head, her voice softening. “He was sweet, nice…  he got controlling. He didn’t like things not going his way.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“About a year.”

His free hand came up to his face, wiping over it as guilt pooled in his stomach. “God, Felicity…” he inhaled sharply. One year.

“I know it’s wrong,” she said quietly, staring down at their joined hands. “I know he shouldn’t hurt me, that I shouldn’t have stayed. It’s just… everyone says it’s so easy to leave when they’re not in the middle of it,” she pointed out, as if there was any way to defend his actions. “He...twists things.”

He nodded. “Men who do that can be manipulative,” he agreed. “That doesn’t mean you’re weak.”

She matched the nod of his head, bringing her eyes back up to his with a hint of shame. “Earlier, when I said that it was my fault, that I made him mad...I know that’s not true,” she assured him. “I know that I don’t deserve it, but in the moment it’s hard to remember that.”

“I understand that.”

“Do you?” she asked him softly.

He nodded, taking a steadying breath of his own. “I saw things like that in the Bratva,” he divulged. “Men treating their wives poorly…. I know the kinds of things that men can say to shut down a woman’s confidence.”

Her grip on his hand tightened for a moment, and the sound leaving her lips halfway between a sob and a laugh. “I always hoped I’d be different.”

“What do you mean?”

“My dad was…” she shook her head, shutting her eyes. “I think, in the end, my Mom told him to leave. He wasn’t kind to her...or to me, but it was so much worse for her. I knew it wasn’t right but he’d tell me it was a special way of showing us that he loved us, because we were being disobedient and he was helping us to be good.” Tears were visible in the corners of her eyes, mere pinpricks beneath closed lids but he could see them all the same. “Mom used to tell me that I’d never end up with a guy like him, that I was better than that and...look at me,” she laughed sadly. “All knocked up and all knocked around.”

“Felicity…” he whispered, feeling a weight in his chest at the idea of her not only being hurt by a partner, but by her own father - the very man who should love her without question, without reason - and he had made her feel less than her own worth. He released her hand, tracing it up her arm until it was resting lightly on her shoulder. “You are better than that,” he assured her.

She scoffed with another shake of her head. “Clearly, I’m not.”

“Felicity, you are remarkable,” he stressed, punctuating each word with a genuine adoration he hoped she could understand. “You are a wonderful, strong woman. You are kind and beautiful and you deserve so much better than this.” They both took a staggered breath as his words took hold. “You should be worshipped, not treated like this…”

“I just…” she let her tears flow over her cheeks, flashing him a saddened smile. “I wanted better for my baby, Oliver. I didn’t want this...cycle of violence.”

He reached up to her face, careful of her bruises as he wiped them away. “Can I ask what started the violence?”

“We uh...when we started working late at QC and in the foundry...when our hours got unpredictable, so did he,” she explained. “He’d get angry when I was home late, or when I missed dinner. He was always manipulative before then, but...the violence started about a year ago.”

“When I was…”

_ Back on Lian Yu. Mourning Tommy. Mourning the lives lost in the Glades. Focusing on myself instead of making sure you were safe.  _

“You weren’t here,” she whispered, completing his sentence. 

He fought through the need to blame himself - the fact that this had started when he hadn’t been here to protect her - because she didn’t need that. This was about her. This wasn’t about him. “Does he live with you?” he asked instead.

She shook her head. “No, he lives in the Glades. Mostly he’d stay over.”

“So he has a key to your place?”

“No,” she looked down. “He always manages to get in though. I changed the locks a few times lately and I don’t even think he knows,” she muttered.

“You can’t go back there, Felicity,” he told her. 

She glanced back up to him. “It’s my home.”

“You aren’t safe there,” he reminded her quietly.

She bit her bruised lip. “I don’t have anywhere else to go, Oliver.”

“You can stay with me,” he insisted quickly. “Or Digg. Or...I’ll talk to Sara, or Laurel, or we’ll find you a new place or...anywhere, Felicity. We will find a solution, but I can’t let you go back somewhere that you aren’t safe.” He nodded downwards. “”You have a baby to think about now.”

Felicity blinked and shifted as if she’d momentarily forgotten. She took a long, slow breath. “Yeah, I guess I do,” she exhaled with a tremor in her tone. 

“I heard them say you were about nine weeks along in the hospital,” he recalled.

With her hand free, she raised to push back her hair. “I didn’t know I was that far along,” she admitted. “I thought it was just a few weeks. I’m...I’m so careful.”

“How do you feel?” he asked her.

Her answer was written all over her face, toying with the hem of the shirt he’d given her. He wondered whether she wanted to put her hand over her stomach, whether it was hard to do that given who was fathering her child. After all, she hadn’t wanted to look at the image from the ultrasound earlier.

“Is this what you want, Felicity? Has anyone asked you that?”

She looked up at him with a frown. “What do you mean?”

“Having a baby is a huge thing. You have options, if this isn’t what you want…” he reminded her.

“I know,” she nodded softly. “I...thought about it,” she confessed. “I didn’t want to bring a baby into the violence, and I didn’t want to do it alone...and God, Oliver, I’m terrified of...everything,” she sighed, resting her head in her hand

The hand that remained on her shoulder started to stroke small circles. “That’s okay, fear we can deal with,” he assured her. “As long as you know what you want, everything else can be figured out.”

Curious eyes watched him, and she didn’t speak for a few moments. His hand continued to move - whether to comfort her or himself he wasn’t sure. “You smiled earlier,” she recalled. “Why did you smile?”

“When?” he asked.

“In the hospital, when you looked at the baby. You smiled. I was watching you,” she stated. “Why?”

A similar smile graced his face again, soft enough to be innocent even despite the subject matter. “Because I could just imagine how beautiful this baby’s going to be,” he admitted.

“Really?” she asked.

He nodded, his hand trailing up so he was cupping her jaw. “I know there are a lot of things to consider, but for what it’s worth, I think you’d be an amazing mother.”

Her head dipped slightly, sending her leaning into his touch. “But my baby won’t have a father now…”

He frowned. “Is that why you stayed?”

“I know what it’s like to grow up without a father,” she said quietly. “I figured that a bad father must be better than no father at all.”

He shook his head. “Felicity…”

Her next tear caught on his thumb. “I just...really wanted to have a loving family. Like other people. Is that so wrong?” she asked him.

“No,” he whispered, leaning a fraction closer. “No, it’s not wrong at all.”

More tears followed, more than he could keep up with as a sob finally slipped through into her voice. “Then why couldn’t  _ I _ have that?” she asked of him.

“You can,” he assured her.

She shook her head, gesturing to herself. “My baby’s father did…. _ this _ , Oliver!” she cried.

“He is not your only option, Felicity,” he urged her to understand. “He doesn’t love you if he can do this to you.”

_ Of course, I love you. I just want what’s best for you. I’ve given you everything, Felicity...you’re so ungrateful… for all I’ve had to put up with…  _

And she stopped, her voice dropping to a whisper. “...no, he doesn’t,” she whispered in a slow realisation.

“This is  _ not  _ love, Felicity,” he continued. “Love is…” he stopped, shaking his head through an ironic smile. “You are having his  _ child _ , he should be thrilled. He should want to shout out from the rooftops how lucky he is. He should want to marry you, to grow old with you, to love you for every day of your life. He should be holding back your hair while you puke, bringing you whatever you need, arguing about baby names. He should be making you feel safe, protected... _ loved… _ ”

Her gaze was fixated on her injured arm. “This isn’t how you treat someone you love, is it?” she realised.

Love was not being picked up from the couch when her eyes rolled back into her head, only to be thrown on the floor. Love was not forgiving lies and over and again. Love was not cringing every time he took a sip of his drink. Love was not feeling guilty about the things she enjoyed. Love was not being scared that any given second the floor might fall through beneath her feet and Hell would consume her. Love was not being taken away from the things that she loved. 

_ You’re just overreacting. You’re just making a big deal out of nothing. _

He used the hand cupping her cheek to draw her back to him, to let her see the emotion and determination in his own gaze. “I would never treat you this way. Felicity, you...deserve everything. You  _ are  _ everything.”

Her eyes flickered away, despite their closeness. “It’s not just me anymore though, is it?” she pointed out.

“No, it’s not. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be loved,” he assured her.

She let out a small laugh of disbelief. “Who’s going to love a crazy twenty-four year old single mother with a baby?” she asked.

“ _ I  _ do,” he whispered.

He’d thought about those two words a lot, if he was honest. The same way he thought about her a lot.

She watched him for a long time, and he let her. Her expression didn’t change, fixed between disbelief and confusion. “But-”

“You had to know that,” he whispered.

She swallowed, biting at her lip again. “I think I do.”

He sighed, a touch of relief gracing it because at least she knew. She knew she was adored. She knew she was cherished. She knew she was loved.

“Felicity,” he asked her softly. “Do you  _ want  _ to have your baby?”

_ Your feelings aren’t important. Your opinions don’t matter. _

“I don’t think I could have an abortion,” she told him, shaking her head slightly. “I know there’s nothing wrong with it, I just...I don’t think I could go through with it.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “What about adoption, would that be something you’d want to do?” he suggested.

She shook her head. “No. I...I want to have my baby,” she decided. “I want to raise it. I want to give it a better life than I had.”

“Then we can do that,” he assured her.

Her eyes raised back to his. “We?”

His gaze softened on her, stroking his thumb over her cheek. “Felicity, if you want to have your baby and for the two of you to be safe and loved, I will go to the ends of this earth to make that happen,” he assured her.

She drew in a breath, holding it. “You’d really love a baby me?” she asked, shakily.

“How could I  _ not  _ adore a part of you?” he wondered. “You’re...one of the few things in my life that makes me smile,” he told her, but she dipped her head as the tears overwhelmed her. 

_ I’d treat you better if you just tried harder…  _

When she drew in a haggard breath, he pulled her gently against his shoulder. “Hey, come here,” he whispered.

_ It hurts me to love you this much, Felicity…  _

She burrowed her face into his shoulder, her good hand clinging to his shirt as she had done in the hospital. His hand cradled the back of her head as the other stroked over her back. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered, pulling back enough to wipe her cheeks.

“You have nothing to apologise for,” he assured her, taking over with a swipe of his thumb when she replaced her hand back against his chest. “You can be scared about having a baby, or being a mother, but you don’t have to be scared about being hurt again, okay?” he whispered. “Whatever it takes, I promise you, I will make sure nothing ever hurts you or your baby.”

“Oliver, you don’t have to-”

“I’ll do anything, Felicity,” he cut her off. “Anything and everything for you both, but please, promise me that you know you deserve better than that monster.”

_ I only treat you like this because you deserve it. I wouldn’t treat you this way if you didn’t need discipline.  _

“I…do,” she whispered, a mimic of his earlier words. 

He brushed his hand back through her hair again. “You’re a strong woman, Felicity. I know you’ve never wanted someone to save you, but please let me help you with this. I  _ will  _ get you away from him.”

“Why would you want to help me?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

“Because I love you,” he breathed out, his tone trembling as he gazed at her. She’d heard him say it before, when Slade was their main concern, and he’d meant it then too. He needed her to know, and now she knew without shadow of a doubt. “I love you, and I can’t watch you be hurt like this.”

_ I don’t like to see you like this, Felicity… but it’s for your own good. You need to learn.  _

She swallowed, her hand clenching in his shirt. “Oliver…”

“It’s okay,” he assured her, when he could see she was struggling to say it back. “I’m not...nothing needs to happen between us, that’s not what this is about,” he told her. “I just needed you to know. What’s important right now is you and your baby, so you need to prioritise that.”

_ You aren’t good for anything else anyway. You may as well use what you’re good for. So get on your knees and do what you’re told. _

“But you-”

“Felicity, I am here for anything you need, but I am not going to pressure you for anything right now. I am not that man,” he assured her.

She was the one to close the gap this time, putting her good arm around his neck and embracing him as best she could. He held her against him, stroking up her back once again. “Oliver?” she murmured.

“Yeah?”

“I’m scared to do this alone,” she whispered into the base of his throat.

“You’ve got me, and Digg, and...so many people, Felicity. You’re not going to be alone.”

_ If I didn’t love you, where would you be? Alone? Do you want to be alone, Felicity? _

“I meant parenting.”

“Oh,” he whispered, his breath shifting some of her hair.

“I never wanted to be a single mom, Oliver,” she admitted. “I watched my mom struggle so much and I never wanted that…”

_ You think I want a stupid kid running around? What kind of mother would you be? _

“Felicity…” he whispered, his heart rate increasing. He was sure she could feel it. “You don’t have to do this alone,” he assured her.

“But I can’t do it with-”

“I’ll do it with you.”

_ I don’t want any part of this. _

His words hung in the air. Suddenly, the silence that had settled over them when they first entered the room wasn’t nearly as heavy compared to this. She’d stilled in his arms, nothing but increasing breaths against him until she was lifting her head so she could see him. “What?”

“I’ll do it with you,” he repeated. “I’ll...help you.”

_ What do you expect me to do? You got yourself into this mess, you deal with it.  _

“You’d...help me raise my baby?” she asked, as if she weren’t sure she’d heard him right.

“I…” he stopped, taking in a breath and nodding firmly. “Yes.”

_ You know damn well what I mean when I said deal with it. _

“Why?” she asked gently.

“Because...that’s what you do when you love someone,” he explained. 

_ Get rid of it, Felicity! That thing’s going to ruin everything! _

Again, there was silence. He wasn’t surprised. The last six hours had been a huge turmoil for her, and this probably didn’t help matters. “I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he told her. “You don’t have to make any decisions. Just...I want you to know that you don’t have to do this alone, not if you don’t want to.”

“ _ Oliver… _ ” she whispered.

“You should get some sleep,” he told her gently, rubbing her hand once more before he started to move. “I’ll get the painkillers the hospital gave you.”

_ Just take a handful of those pills I take for my knee. That’ll get rid of it. _

“I don’t like them,” she mumbled, drawing her knees up against her as he stood up. “They make me dizzy.”

He turned back to her when he’d taken the painkillers out of his jacket pocket, his face written in concern. “You’re going to be in pain without them,” he reminded her as he poured a glass of water from the bathroom.

She looked hesitantly at him. “But what if he-”

“Felicity, listen to me,” he told her, as he returned to her side and sat at the edge of the bed. 

_ Dammit, Felicity, listen to me! _

“He is  _ not  _ going to find you here,” he assured her. “I’ll be right here the whole time. He can’t hurt you, not when you’re with me.” He took out the correct dosage, holding it out in his palm for her. “You don’t have to be in pain any more.”

_ Quit your whining and crying. You have no reason to cry or complain.  _

She took the painkillers quickly, drowning out Darren’s voice as his she slipped the pills onto her tongue, downing them with the glass of water before she put it aside, shifting her legs beneath the duvet. “Will you...stay with me?” she asked softly.

“I’m not going anywhere, Felicity,” he repeated.

“I meant here...in the bed. In case…” she stopped herself, shaking her head as she shifted away to lie down. “It’s stupid,” she disregarded it quietly, turning away from him.

“Felicity,” he stopped her, gently laying a hand on her arm. “Will you feel safer if I lie next to you?” he asked her.

_ What are you doing over there? Come lie down with me. I’ll keep you warm. _

She nodded. “I think so.”

“Then would you rather I lie between you and the door, or you and the window?” he asked her.

She cast a glance at both threats. “The door,” she whispered.

“Okay,” he replied simply, lying down beside her at her request. He lay on his back, where he was perfectly positioned to move should it be needed, and she didn’t need to doubt that anyone would get past him. “Is this okay?” he asked, gesturing to how close he was to her. 

_ You’re such a good actress, aren’t you? You always know how to get what you want... _

She didn’t answer at first, shifting a little as she tried to block out Darren’s voice again, then awkwardly pulling his arm around her. He moved it as she requested, cautiously to make sure he wasn’t aggravating any injuries. “Is this okay?” she asked, posing his question back at him.

“This is okay,” he whispered, ducking down and placing his lips against the crown of her head. “Get some sleep, Felicity.”

“Please, don’t leave me alone,” she murmured as her eyes closed.

“I’ll never leave you,” he promised her.

_ I’ll never leave you. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS IN PLACE FROM THIS CHAPTER ON. Discussions of violence and medical scenes which may be uncomfortable to read. Please read at your discretion (if it puts it into perspective, this was very difficult for me to write)

Though she hadn’t fallen asleep until the sun was rising, Felicity was bolting out of his arms around late morning, stumbling into the open bathroom and slumping over the toilet. It was mere seconds of confused fumbling to follow her before he heard the sound of her retching. He winced momentarily, wondering if she’d actually want to be alone for this moment instead of with him leaning over her, but he could hear her shuffling around, then spotted the hairband she’d discarded yesterday. She wouldn’t be able to tie her hair back out of the way with one arm in a sling, so he stepped in behind her, pulling her hair back into a low but messy ponytail.

It was a few minutes before sat back on her heels, her elbow leaning against the toilet seat with her head rested in her palm. He stood at the sink, filling one of the small glasses with water. Turning to hand it to her, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Here, have some water.”

“Thanks,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Sorry about this.”

He started to shift down to the space opposite her, his back to the wall beside the toilet with one leg propped up at his side. “You don’t have to apologise for morning sickness.”

She looked at him with a small frown. “What are you doing?”

He glanced down at himself in confusion, then back at her. “Sitting down?”

“Why?”

“So you’re not alone,” he stated simply. 

“Oh,” she murmured.

He frowned. “Is that okay?” he checked.

“I…” she started, but then sighed a little. “Yeah.”

“If you want me to wait outside, I will,” he offered.

“You can stay,” she said quietly.

“Okay,” he nodded, and when she leaned over the toilet seat again in precaution, his hand moved to her back, rubbing up and down her spine. 

She arched against his touch slightly, her eyes slipping closed, and a small sigh left her lips. “That’s really nice,” she breathed.

“Is it helping?” he asked her hopefully.

“Little bit,” she hummed.

“Okay, I’ll carry on.”

He did so, his hand tracing a steady pattern up and down her spine with a small circle at the base each time. 

“Oliver?” she asked quietly, after a few minutes had passed in silence.

“Yeah?”

“Why are you so good to me?” she asked him.

His hand never stilled. “You know why,” he whispered.

She shifted and moved her back against the wall beside the toilet. “Because you love me,” she answered.

He nodded. “Because above and beyond all else, you’re one of the greatest friends I’ve ever had,” he added.

“You’re one of my best friends too,” she said softly. 

\--

Around midday, they made the decision that they needed to get more of her things from her apartment. She needed a change of clothes at the very least, and Oliver insisted that some home comforts would make her feel better as well. But that meant either himself or Diggle rooting through her possessions, which with the possibility of Darren being there, she wasn’t ready for. Eventually, there was no other way to handle it but for them all to go together and get all her essentials in one go. That way, she wouldn’t have to risk going back to her apartment until they found her somewhere far safer to move into. 

But a problem arose when they got to her apartment, and she couldn’t get out of the car.

Her hand tightened around Oliver’s,  a warning sign that he was quick to act upon as her voice wavered. “Oliver…”   
  
“What is it?” he asked her quickly, as the car came to a stop.   
  
Her gaze was fixed entirely on the Honda parked alongside her Mini. “That’s his car.”   
  
Oliver’s shoulders braced as his arm moved to the headrest behind her, caging her in safely. “He’s here?”   
  
She pulled her hand away from his to grasp into the soft leather seat, her breath starting to come in short bursts. “I don’t think I can do this,” she gasped out, shaking her head and shrinking back in on herself.   
  
“Yes, you can,” he said surely.   
  
She shot her eyes back to his, shaking her head again as her soft voice broke through his roughened exterior. “You said if I wasn’t ready to do this, then I didn’t have to do it,” she reminded him.    
  
“You said it yourself, Felicity. You want your own things,” he said quietly, taking her back to the conversation they had earlier in the hotel room.   
  
“He’s in there, Oliver,” she whispered.   
  
“I will be too,” he whispered back to her. “I told you, I’m going in with you.”   
  
“But if he-”   
  
He cut her off, taking both her trembling hands in his. “Felicity, he is not going to hurt you. You have my word. I’m going to be right beside you, so is Digg...”   
  
As he mentioned him, the car door opened, and Diggle appeared in the space. He made a sweeping motion and Felicity shifted into the middle seat so that Diggle could sit in her space. Now, she was trapped entirely between the two men. Diggle hunched forward slightly, blocking her sight of the car. “Felicity…”   
  
“Digg, I can’t do this,” she shook her head.   
  
His soft smile didn’t drop. “You know, this time last year you were jumping out of a plane,” he reminded her.   
  
She swallowed, shutting her eyes. “It’s not the same.”   
  
“I know, this is far easier than that. Jumping out of a plane? When you’re afraid of heights? That took guts. That took courage. This is just walking in and packing. It’s like going on vacation,” he said with a gentle determination. His hand came up to cup her cheek affectionately. “This is nothing, Felicity. You’ve got this, girl,” he told her quietly.

In her silence, Oliver squeezed her hand again. “We’re going to be right there with you, Felicity.”   
“In an hour, this will all be over,” Diggle added.

She took a breath, steeling herself. Her head dipped for a moment before she pulled her hands out of Oliver’s grasp and wiped at her face, pushing her hair back. “Please don’t let him near me,” she asked t hem both.   
  
“I promise,” Oliver assured her. “You don’t even have to look at him.”   
  
She flickered her eyes down, and then back up to Oliver. “You won’t-”

“Felicity, I promise I won’t let him hurt you,” he whispered, his hand finding hers again. “I promise.”   
  
“Okay,” she nodded.   
  
\----   
**  
** He was there, of course he was. She knew that he would be, that he would have let himself in. He didn’t have a key to the new lock she had changed a week ago, and there was no evidence of a break in outside the door. She’d always had her suspicions about the security of the kitchen window because it stuck sometimes, and because she was hardly ever there she never had time to get it looked at. 

_ I’m right here. Where else would I be? _

She handed her key to Diggle, who held the door open. “Stay here,” Oliver told her in a whisper, releasing her hand as he went inside.

She saw it in the way that he immediately turned to face the kitchenette area, the way his face hardened and his shoulders squared. He said nothing, but she caught the deadly expression slip as he looked back to her. He took her hand again as he lowered his voice to her, as if the shift in his focus changed his entire demeanour. 

“I want you to go to the bedroom and get what you need,” he instructed her softly. She started to shake her head, biting her lip, but he cut her off, his voice painfully soft. “No, you’re going to get what you need, and Digg’s going to go with you, and I want you to get everything, Felicity. As many things as you need, everything that’s special.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked quietly.

“I’m going to make sure you aren’t disturbed,” he said simply, releasing her again and turning away. 

She couldn’t avoid it any longer. Diggle’s hand was at her back as they went inside, and luckily, Oliver’s form blocked her from seeing Darren. But she could feel his eyes on her, feel that territorial mist descend, and she stalled for a moment, just out of sight as she crossed from the living room where he could see her, to the hallway where she was hidden from his view. Diggle encouraged her to keep moving, but she didn’t take another breath until the bedroom door was closed behind her.

Once she was out of sight, Oliver turned his gaze back to Darren.

_ You. _

He was medium build, certainly smaller in stature and muscle than Oliver was, but his calmness was unnerving. He stared at him over the top of his glass of water as if Felicity hadn’t just returned to him accompanied by two very dangerous, very angry men. Oliver’s thumb ran over his forefinger, wishing that he’d brought his bow in with him so that he could place three in his chest - at the very least, the same fate as the last man who’d met the end of his life for thinking he could place Felicity Smoak in danger. Darren just stared back, bleach blonde hair perfectly pushed back to show eyes that were far too calm in such a simmering state of anger to be anything but that of a ruthless psychopath.

_ You. _

“Should’ve known she’d go to you first,” he stated simply, a smirk curling one side of his face sickeningly.

That was all it took. 

He snapped.

_ You. _

He crossed the space in two large strides, his hand around Darren’s throat as he twisted him easily. He threw his upper body over the kitchen counter, one hand clenched around his throat with the other pinning down his arm in a feral display.

_ Did you ever do this to her? _

_ Did you ever scare her? Hold her down?  _

_ Deprive her of movement? Deprive her of air? _

He felt sick for a moment - because he was enjoying it. He was enjoying causing pain to someone who had hurt the woman he cared for. Felicity who was kind, who was sweet, who was gentle, had suffered in the arms of this monster, and as he scrambled against Oliver as he increased the pressure on his shoulder, Oliver realised that he was enjoying it. 

He was enjoying causing pain. Like Darren had enjoyed hurting Felicity.

_ I’m not the same as you. _

_ I would never hurt her. _

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t tear you apart with my bare hands.”

Rather than struggle any further, Darren laughed -  _ he laughed _ \- and glared around at Oliver. Oliver wasn’t sure he’d ever seen so much vile depravity mixed with amusement -  _ is this what you made her believe was love? Is this how you look at her?  _

“Because pretty rich boy doesn’t need a murder case on his hands,” Darren grinned around at him from the awkward position he was pinned in. “You can’t protect her from jail.”

It happened in a blur. All he could think about what this monster’s hands on her skin. Did his fingers tear at her hair if she struggled, was that why she tightened her ponytail with such care somedays? When Felicity was in his arms, did he hold her gently under false pretences? Or did he dig his fingertips in, as a warning of what was to come? Did he stroke her cheek before he hit out at it? 

_ How many times did you hurt her? _

_ How many of her tears did you cause? _

_ How many lies did you make her tell? _

How long did he lure her in and make her cry out his name before she had to cry out for him to stop? How many times had she cried herself to sleep and flinched at every snore from her side? She’d broken her glasses once and lost her spare pair - had he taken them from her because she was up late on her laptop? Had he snapped the frames and crushed the lenses?

_ How? How did you make her believe she was loved by you? _

She’d gone to bed with this monster. Had it been willing, when they’d created the child she carried? Did she close her eyes and wait for it to be over? Did she bite her lip and fake her pleasure in the hopes that he would finish sooner? Did she hide her distaste or did she cry out for him to stop and try to push him away? Had he called her names? Told her she was worthless?

_ Did she cry out for me? Did that make it worse? _

_ What did you do to her to make her believe she was anything less than perfect? _

He wasn’t sure when he’d raised his hands, when he’d moved Darren from the counter to the wall, wasn’t sure when he’d started hitting him, but he heard the other man’s laughter and it snapped him back to himself. He crushed his palm to his throat, squeezing it tightly so that Darren struggled for breath, and then he leaned in close, dangerously close and--

“If you  _ ever  _ go near her again, I will  _ bury  _ you--

“ _ Oliver _ !”

Her voice cut through everything, and he released Darren only long enough to growl ‘ _ get out’  _ in a scathing tone before he was out of the door and Oliver was left standing, staring at his hands as they trembled with rage.

“Oliver-” she started, moving towards him, but he shook his head, looking to Diggle.

“Take her back to the hotel, I need to-”

“No,” she whispered, far too high pitched for him to deny looking at her. She shook her head, taking a step towards him. “No, I want you to come with me.”

“Felicity, I need to-”

“-come with me,” she finished his sentence, lowering back down to a small murmur. “Please, I don’t want to go alone,” she told him.

“ _ Felicity- _ ”

_ I love you. _

“I don’t want to go without you,” she said again, and he could feel his harsh breaths calming down. He nodded once at Diggle, a silent instruction for him to check that Darren was really gone, and the moment the two were alone, just as he was about to reach for her, she reached for him first. Her hands cupped his cheeks, one awkwardly so from the cast on her arm, and he found himself leaning into her, closing his eyes as his hands cradled her elbows. “You were hurting him-”

“He was hurting you,” he countered, his voice shaking with anger towards the man who was no longer there. 

_ I love you. _

“How can he hurt me?” she whispered. “This is where I’m safest.”

“Felicity…” he sighed, pausing as she took his hands and placed them on her cheeks, reversing her position. He held her gently, cradling her as she should be - precious, flawless, beautiful - and felt his rage settle into a peace that only she could bring him, felt her chip away at his anger and replace it with something he could only describe as love.

“Hurting him won’t keep me safe,” she whispered, closing her eyes as she leaned into him. “But this… your arms only mean  _ safe _ when I’m in them, not when you’re using them to hurt people.”

“How can I  _ not _ hurt him?” he breathed out. 

_ I love you. _

“I’m not with him any more,” she reminded him. “I’m with you, right?”

He nodded numbly, drawing her into his arms with more purpose. She moved her arms around his waist, holding onto him as his closed around her shoulders. He wasn’t sure how long they remained there for, locked in an embrace with his hand tangled in her hair and hers gripping into the back of his jacket.

_ I love you. _

He just knew it would never be long enough. 

 

\--

 

The trip back to the hotel was relatively quiet, not that any of them expected otherwise. Diggle took a deliberately longer route, just in case Darren had hung around to see them leave and might be following them. With the way Oliver’s hands were shaking with quiet rage meant that the car was filled only with essential conversation. Luckily, their precautions seemed only that, and they weren’t being followed.

The backseat of the car was humming with tensions. Oliver’s adrenaline still controlled him while Felicity’s dazed demeanour attempted to calm both him and herself at the same time. Her hand tightly gripped around one of his larger ones, visible even through the rear-view mirror to their faithful friend. The whole way, Felicity focused only on Oliver’s hand between her fingers. Allowing her thoughts to stray any further meant that she had to think about Darren, or the baby, or what had just happened, and her mind wasn’t quite ready for that; so she curled her slender fingers around his calloused ones and kept her mind fixated on how her touch seemed to calm the storm within him. 

Felicity wasn’t aware that they’d arrived back at the hotel until Diggle was opening the door on her side of the car, holding out his hand to her to help her out of the car. Her arm was aching now, her painkillers wearing off in a way that made her skin itch, and she had to unlink her fingers from Oliver’s to take Diggle’s hands. His hands weren’t the same as Oliver’s, less textured despite his time in the army and how often he worked with his hands, but she felt safe in them nonetheless.

They unloaded the bags she’d filled from her apartment while she leaned against the side of the car, cradling her injured wrist her chest, not even muttering a ‘careful’ when she watched Oliver take her laptop bag out of the boot of the car.

Altogether she’d managed two suitcases of clothes and some overnight bags of her computers and other treasured items. Anything that she’d left behind she was happy that she didn’t need. She didn’t spend a great deal of time there, but she’d picked up her important items - her jewellery, her spare glasses, her box of essential paperwork and her family heirlooms. Photographs were mainly backed up on her computers, but the ones she had hard copies of had been taken out of frames and put into one of the pockets of her bags. 

She’d lived in Starling City for five years, yet her entire life only fit into two suitcases and three overnight bags. Oliver and Diggle were able to move it towards the lobby door with just one trip, Oliver even freeing up one hand to touch her lower back. 

“Hey, let’s get inside,” he murmured quietly.

When she didn’t move, his gaze switched to a frown.

“Felicity? Did we forget something?”

“My whole life is in those bags,” she whispered. “It doesn’t even take two trips from the car.”

“Not yet,” he assured her lightly. “Just wait until you start getting baby things, it’ll take at least thirty trips then.”

She nodded, said nothing more, and accompanied them back into the hotel. Diggle stayed with them all the way to the hotel room, bringing her bags up. He set the two suitcases he’d rolled in over beside Oliver’s one, and looked between them as Oliver placed her other bags on the bed. 

Diggle cleared his throat, approaching the quiet young woman. “Felicity, can we talk for a second?” he asked her.

She quickly snapped out of her trance-like silence. “Sure.”

His gaze turned to Oliver, who was watching them both with concern. “Can you give us a moment?” he asked him.

Oliver drew in a breath, his shoulders tensing at the idea of leaving her side even though it was with someone they both trusted. After a moment, he nodded. “There’s a Big Belly down the end of the street, I’ll go and get us some dinner,” he offered.

They were all silent as he checked that he had his keycard for the room and his wallet, but before he left the room he placed his hand on Felicity’s shoulder with a precautionary glance. It wasn’t until she had given him a small nod that he left the two of them alone. Once he was gone, Felicity eased down onto the edge of the bed, perching on the edge as Diggle turned around the chair that was placed in front of the small vanity so he could face her.

“Felicity…” he started softly.

She immediately cut him off with a small whisper. “Please, don’t be sorry.”

He took her free hand in his, squeezing it gently. “We should have protected you then, but we didn’t,” he said regretfully.”

“It’s not your fault, Digg,” she told him.

“It’s not your fault either, you know that, don’t you?”

She nodded weakly. “Yeah.”

“It’s important to me that you know that,” he checked, his voice firm. 

It made her pause, and she looked away as she sighed. She shifted her injured arm down into the cradle of her lap. “I know it was wrong,” she explained quietly. “I just didn’t know what else to do. Where to go…”

He squeezed her hand again to bring her attention back to him. “This is me telling you, right now, that if you ever find yourself with nowhere to go again, you can always, always, come to me,” he told her with a steadfast certainty. 

“Thank you,” she swallowed.

“Even if it’s something small,” he insisted. “I might be having a daughter soon, but you’re still our girl,” he added lightly. 

At the mention of his child to be, she sucked in a breath. Diggle was like family to her, someone who had been a kind and loving friend to her even when things with Oliver had been rocky. She’d always seen him as a brother figure, something she’d never had in her life, and the idea of telling him the news she hadn’t yet told him made her nervous. He’d always helped make her achievements a little more celebratory, but now she feared he might be disappointed in her.

“Digg, I’m pregnant,” she whispered, her eyes welling up.

“I know,” he nodded softly, as her fingers dug into the palm of his hand. “You probably don’t remember, but I was at the hospital last night. When they took you for your x-ray, Oliver told me.” She hadn’t been paying a great deal of attention, and through the haze and shock she hadn’t really retained much knowledge of it, dividing up the time by whether or not she could feel Oliver’s arms around her. “You know that we’re both going to help you with this,” he reminded her softly. “With whatever you need.”

Felicity’s gaze moved around the room, looking around at the remnants of things that Oliver had done for her in the last twenty-four hours alone. On top of a pile of laundry was the shirt and sweatpants of his that she’d worn to sleep. The small trash can was filled with the discarded packaging from their breakfast bagels. Her painkillers from the hospital were next to the nightstand and her sling was hanging from the back of the chair that Diggle was sitting on. 

“Oliver said he’ll help me with the baby,” she told him quietly.

“I don’t doubt that” he nodded.

“Do you think that’s a good choice?” she asked.

Diggle debated his answer for a few moments, his gaze never wavering from hers. “I think that’s a choice only you can make,” he answered eventually.

She laughed sadly at his response, a small huff of disbelief as she looked down to her lap. When she raised her eyes back to his, she lifted her injured wrist slightly in demonstration. “I haven’t made very good choices, Digg,” she pointed out.   
  
“Not for yourself, but when it comes to your baby, a mother always makes the right choice,” he assured her, his voice light and comforting.

But she wasn’t so sure of that. She’d spent so many years of her life watching her mother make the same mistakes over and over, falling for men who hurt her, and Felicity had been so determined not to make the same mistakes. However, in trying to veer away from it, she’d landed in exactly the same position.    
  
“How will I know?” she asked.   
  
“You’ll know,” he nodded simply.   
  
She sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly in defeat. “I’m scared,” she confessed.   
  
“I know. This is scary for us all,” he added, raising his hand to her cheek. “None of us ever wanted you to get hurt, Felicity,” he said quietly.   
  
“I know. I’m sorry,” she whispered, her gaze dropping again from the weight of his.    
  
“No, no, no. Look at me,” he urged, until she directed her gaze back to him. She did as he asked without any further argument. “That’s the last time I want to hear of you apologising for anything about this. None of this is anything that you need to apologise for,” he said firmly.    
  
“Okay,” she whispered, her misted eyes giving way to the tears bursting through them. Whether she was blaming relief, hormones or painkillers for the increase in tears in the last twenty-four hours, they spilled easily onto her cheeks again.    
  
“Hey, none of those tears,” he said, wiping them away with his thumb. “You did good today. You were strong, and I’m proud of you,” he told her.   
  
“That was harder than I thought it would be,” she confessed, tugging her fingers out of his grasp bringing her palm up to wipe at her other cheek.   
  
“Felicity, I’d be worried if was easy for you.”   
  
She merely huffed in response, trying not to dwell too much on what it had been like to not only see Darren again so soon after what he’d done to her, and more so to remember the fiercely protective look on Oliver’s face.  The tension within the room was dangerous, something she’d only felt when she’d been around him in his Arrow attire. She’d always known there was a ferocity to Oliver that made him an incredibly dangerous man, but she’d never had any reason to feel afraid of him. He’d always been very honest about needing her help, and he hadn’t been able to hide the way his muscles had rippled and calmed beneath the gentle touch of her hand the first time she’d helped him.

Realistically, it was Oliver’s fierce nature that acted as her greatest asset in this situation. Yes, she’d been deathly afraid of Darren, and she still was despite the distance, but she’d never wanted to drag anyone else into her situation. Regardless, she’d called Oliver. She’d asked him to come and find her because she knew that he would find her, she knew he would do whatever it took to keep her safe, and she knew that everything would be resolved as long as she could get herself to him. Oliver had made it startlingly clear when the Count had caught her that he would resort to any measures to stop her from being harmed, and as soon as it had been about more lives than just her own, she hadn’t been able to hide it any longer.

And just as she knew, Oliver had kept her safe. He’d taken her to the hospital, taken her in, and now that he was away from her side for the first time she realised how deeply she missed his closeness. He loved her, and his love made her feel protected. There was no safer place she could be than at the side of someone who would raise Hell to keep her away from harm. And not just for her, but for her child as well. He wanted to make sure that her baby grew up away from harm, in a secure environment, and he wanted her baby to have parents that loved it.

“I think Oliver would be a good father.”   
  
“Do you  _ want  _ him to be a father for your baby?” Diggle checked.   
  
“Digg-”   
  
“No one’s asking you to make a decision, Felicity,” he told her.   
  
“But I’m supposed to be making decisions for my baby,” she reminded him.   
  
“Felicity, there’s plenty of time for decisions,” he assured her. “Right now the only decision you have to make is whether or not you’re going to raise your baby somewhere safe.”

Of course she was. Apart from Darren, with distance between them and a clear head, she knew that she would never allow her child to be raised in an environment that was unsafe. Though she had suffered at the hands of him for far too long, she knew that she would never have been able to turn a blind eye to him raising a hand to her child. Even the idea of him holding her baby made her stomach twist in displeasure.    
  
“I am,” she whispered.   
  
“Then that’s all we need to do right now,” he told her. “We’re going to make sure that you and your baby are safe.”

He made it sound so simple, but she knew that it wasn’t. In the downfall of Queen Consolidated after Isabel’s takeover, she was still out of a job. Finding a new place live without a job was going to be hard enough, even though she had money saved to live off of. She was now stuck in the same rut that Oliver was, and she felt selfish momentarily for assuming that Oliver’s love for her meant that he would never turn her away from a place that would keep a roof over their heads.   
  
“Thank you,” she said quietly.   
  
“You don’t have to thank me,” he assured her. “We take care of our own.”   
  
“Isn’t that a soldier thing?” she frowned slightly.   
  
“It’s a  _ family  _ thing. And you’re family. Do you know what that means?” he asked her.   
  
“That I’m not alone?” she said, calling on Oliver’s words from last night.   
  
“That your baby’s going to get spoiled by their Uncle Digg,” he said, eliciting a smile from her at last as she wiped at her damp cheeks again. “And that you’re not alone.”   
  
“I’m glad you’re here, Digg,” she told him.   
  
“I’m glad to see you with a smile,” he told her. “Must mean Oliver’s taking good care of you.”   
  
She nodded firmly. That, at least, was one thing that she was very sure of. “He’s taking really good care of me.”   
  
“Good, otherwise I’ll have to kick his ass,” he threatened lightly.   
  
“I think I’ve got my ass kicked enough for all of us,” she smiled sadly.   
  
\---

Moments after Oliver returned to the hotel room, Felicity had thrown herself back into the bathroom, barely managing to lock the door behind her before she was heaving over the toilet and saying goodbye to the breakfast she’d greatly enjoyed. She hadn’t become entirely acquainted with morning sickness still, but while Oliver had been a supportive addition that morning, she hadn’t wanted Diggle to witness her like that as well, so the door had barely been locked in time.

Oliver assured Diggle he would call them if anything was needed, but for now they would put a stop on their nightly activities to ensure that Felicity wasn’t entirely back at working health before they pushed for leaving her in the foundry while they went out onto the streets. When he was gone, Oliver tried to organise their small living space a little more. He considered briefly calling through to the manager who’d granted him a significant amount of favours already to see if any of the suites on the upper floors were available, but once he’d unpacked their clothes into the wardrobe of the room and hidden the empty cases under the bed, it didn’t seem as cramped any more. 

At the store he’d managed to find a few extra items that would see them through, investing in toiletries that weren’t just hotel disposables and a few snacks that didn’t have to come from room service or take-out restaurants. He figured Felicity would want to wash her hair tomorrow, if not later that day, so now they at least had more to work with. He left the rest of her bags for her to organise, but it seemed a little more like home when he took his shoes off by the door and sat down on the bed.

When Felicity re-appeared, pale-faced with her hair awkwardly pulled back, she slowly eased herself onto the empty side of the bed, propping herself up with pillows to keep her upright. Her eyes slipped closed for a moment as she steadied her breathing, and Oliver found himself mimicking her position on the opposite side of the bed. “Tired?” he asked her gently.

_ I can’t stand to look at you. You make me sick. _

She shook her head, throwing away the memory of Darren’s voice. “No, just...morning sickness doesn’t just stick to the mornings, apparently,” she explained with a sigh, wrinkling her nose as she opened her eyes again. “I think it’s passed now though,” she decided.   
  
“I got some apples and some ginger at the store,” he told her. “Apparently they help with morning sickness.”

_ Get up. I’m not taking care of you. You said last night you could take care of yourself. _ __   
  
“How do you know that?” she asked with a questioning expression.   
  
“I looked it up,” he said quietly.   
  
“For me?” she asked in a tiny voice.

There were things that she had expected by asking Oliver for help, and then there was...this. Despite his assurances about his feelings for her, the idea of him looking up morning sickness and trying to figure out what he could provide to make that easier for her gave her emotions that she wasn’t ready to put a label on yet. What little was left of her resolve was already buckling under his kindness, but there was so much to process that she didn’t want to make what could be the biggest decision of all under so much chaos.   
  
“You need to be eating, Felicity… and we need to know you’re keeping down your medication,” he reasoned.

_ You were late for dinner. There’s nothing left for you now.  _ _   
_ __   
She nodded, her eyes flickering down. “I guess so.”   
  
He cleared his throat, indicating to the brown paper bag that contained her usual order that was sat on the bed between them. “But I also got Big Belly Burger, if you-”   
  
“I want the burger. Please,” she cut him off quickly, reaching for the bag. 

\---   
  
With a full stomach that, thankfully, hadn’t decided to disagree with the burger and fries, Felicity stretched back out on the bed. The room had a more relaxed feel about it this time, and their time wasn’t even passed in silence. “Better?” Oliver asked as she adjusted her legs, crossing them over at the feet. Now that the initial shock between them had faded, it felt more...normal between them. He wasn’t entirely surprised - she’d managed to be relaxed around him for the last year that this had been happening to her, and for as frightened as he was that the bubbly, bright Felicity he knew and loved was all an act, she wasted no time in plugging in her tablet to charge on the nightstand and unpack a furry pair of slippers in a pink so bright, it could only be his Felicity.   
  


She rolled her head across the pillow she’d propped behind her back, looking at him with a short nod and a slow blink. She’d taken her painkillers right after eating, and just as it had last time, the drowsiness was quick to take effect. “Yeah,” she said quietly, patting her stomach before her hand darted away and relaxed on the sheet between them.   
  


Her eyes drifted back to the television on the wall opposite the bed. Oliver rarely watched it during his stays at the hotel, but as he unpacked the dinner he’d brought back for them she’d taken the remote and found a terribly staged quiz show that they entertained themselves with by calling out the answers and even betting in french fries on which contestant would win. While she looked away, he kept his gaze on her. He knew from the way that she kept touching her hair that she wanted to shower, but they’d work that one out in the morning. He’d saved the plastic bag their meal had come in to wrap around her cast when she did decide to shower, but otherwise she seemed far more at home with him. He was expecting her to be shaken, at least a little withdrawn, after what had happened in her apartment, but she didn’t appear to be anything more than a little quiet. He wondered whether it was her talk with Diggle, or the affirmation that having collected her things, she was really safe from the pain she’d been living through. He’d given her what their work had given him  all this time - distance. She was away from the danger, away from being hurt, away from being afraid, and this time she wasn’t thinking about having to go back to it.   
  


Or maybe it was because it was him. Maybe it was because she felt safest when she was with him. Oliver didn’t think it was entirely that, but he allowed himself to hope for a moment. She had, after all, called him in the middle of the night. When it became too much, she knew that he would come through for her, and he had. He was there now, and he knew what had been done to her and he wouldn’t stand for it ever happening again. He hoped that she knew that, and maybe that was why she wasn’t curled in on herself. Maybe she knew he would do whatever it took to protect her. Maybe it was because he told her that he loved her.   
  


Maybe she liked that.

 

“Can I ask you something?” he asked into the quiet void between them, gazing down at the hand that lay a mere inch from his own.

 

“What?” she asked.

 

“Earlier, when you said you felt safest with me,” he prompted her. “Is that true?”

 

_ I take care of you, don’t I? Everything’s better when you’re with me.  _

 

“Yes,” she whispered, without taking her eyes off of the television.   
  
“Why?” he asked.

Her hand slid into his, gripping the tips of his fingers. He’d never really put any thought into how tiny her hands were compared to his. His hands had caused death, caused pain to so many people… but when she wrapped her fingers around his, it made all of that seem so far away. All he could see was the tiny digits twining with his own and marvel in their delicacy. He wanted to put it into words for her, but it never seemed possible. He wouldn’t have to, though. She was going to be a mother. She was going to know all about the adoration that came from tiny fingers clutching her own 

“Because you’ve always kept me safe,” she said quietly. “You’ve always come for me.”

“Except when you needed it,” he whispered guiltily. 

“I needed it with Slade. With the Count. You’ve saved me a lot of times,” she reminded him.

“Except-”

“You’re saving me now,” she whispered, turning to him to cut off his words. “I could have called Digg last night. But I didn’t, I called  _ you _ .”

The words caught on the tip of his tongue were words that he couldn’t speak. She didn’t need his guilt, he knew that, but that didn’t stop him from feeling it curling in the pit of his stomach. He should have seen what was happening. He spent so long punishing people, making them pay for their sins, and all along he had missed the worst of all. It was choking him, the idea that he had been so lost in his own aura of self-loathing that he hadn’t even suspected what was happening to her behind closed doors; so fixated on his own cover story that he hadn’t seen through hers. He could have kept her safe from the first time she felt afraid, long before she was hurt, long before she was made to feel like a lesser version of herself.

When he remained silent, she moved towards him. He frowned in confusion as she shuffled across the mattress on her knees, dropping down into the space between his raised knees and leaning against his chest on her good side. He caught on to what she was attempting, and with some gentle maneuvering he embraced her as she tucked her head beneath his chin and rested her cast over his side. With his legs still raised and hers curled beneath his knee, he surrounded her on all sides.

“Nothing can hurt me here, right?” she asked him quietly. 

He tightened his arms around her, closing his eyes. A deep inhale surrounded him with the same scent that he’d spent the night before adoring, and suddenly, he felt exhausted. Not just physically, but emotionally - and the tipping point had been the moment when the woman he loved - the woman who knew of his love for her - had crawled into his arms, placing her head near his heart and reminded him of the many reasons that his feelings for her had been a safe harbour through his own storms. 

“Nothing,” he breathed out.

He half expected her to shift away, back into her own space once her point had been made but she nuzzled her face slightly into him like a tired child. He felt her grow heavier against him, and the silence that settled over them was blissful in comparison to the uneasy silence that she’d rested in last night. “Don’t let me go, okay?” she asked, the fingers of her casted arm curling slightly into his shirt.

“Never,” he choked out, bringing one hand up to stroke through the tresses of her hair. 

He breathing leveled out, the painkillers settling her quickly, and he knew that she was fast asleep.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

 

When Felicity woke up, she felt an unfamiliar coolness in the empty space behind her. In the last week, she’d grown used to feeling Oliver’s chest pressed against the curve of her spine, or his hand running over her arm as she lay across his chest. It would have been a lie to insinuate that she didn’t love waking up like that. Most mornings she roused with a stirring in her stomach that gave her only a few moments to get from the bed to the bathroom - a definite advantage of staying in a hotel room with its near proximity to the toilet at all times - and the one morning she had woken to no nausea, she was entirely alone in the bed.

Rather than risk getting out of bed and spurring on any morning sickness, she adjusted herself on the pillow, content in the knowledge that in Oliver’s absence she had at least spread herself across the centre of the bed, straying across to the side that he kept to rather religiously. He always waited for her to come to him, never pushing, never reaching, but always waiting for her. The moment she reached for him he was there, ready, and she suspected that he had been for a while.

He loved her. That was a shock, and yet, it wasn’t. The real shock had been in hearing the words and not just feeling it in his gaze or in the weight of his hand at the small of her back. 

They fit well together - not just curled together in the bed, but here within the room. In the week since he’d brought her here, it had become completely filled with what was left of her life. The tiny wardrobe was filled with both of their clothes - a battle she had won without even arguing it; she’d just hung up her clothes, found space beside them and started on the ones he’d folded on the floor. There was a USB extension unit plugged in on her bedside table where the lamp had been, which meant that there were two lamps on Oliver’s bedside table, and her various devices were charging at any point during the day.

They hadn’t been to the foundry since. She was starting to miss it, but they’d discussed a few days earlier that she wanted to wait for the bruising on her face to fade before she made an appearance. Diggle came by every day, once even bringing along a scan photo of his and Lyla’s baby, and it hadn’t frightened her as much as she thought it might. Roy had texted her every day to see how she was feeling, but he only knew the cover story that Oliver had initially told the hospital - she’d been mugged on her way home when she left the office late. 

She was just feeling a heaviness behind her eyelids, enough that she considered dozing off again, when she heard Oliver’s keycard slotting into the door, along with the telltale beep that sounded his entry. She lifted her head a little as he came in, lowering her eyes immediately from the sight of his sweaty shirt. Despite everything, the way that his dark-grey shirt stuck to him made her stomach flutter - thankfully not in a way that had her lunging towards the toilet. She’d seen him shirtless enough times to know what was beneath that fabric, and somehow - miraculously - this man loved her.

Oliver Queen loved her. He’d said it several times now, each time with a certainty. He liked waking up with her in his arms. She was very certain that he wanted to kiss her properly, based on how he kissed her hair or her forehead as she was falling asleep. Ultimately, it meant that he’d thought about her in non-platonic ways. Ways that maybe involved her being sweaty as well--

“Hey, you’re awake,” he said with a semi-exhausted smile as he closed the door behind him.

She shifted upright slightly, leaning against the headboard still. “You went running?”

“Just a three-mile loop,” he explained, toeing off his shoes at the door and disappearing into the bathroom. She heard the tap running for a few minutes. He returned with a small gym-sized towel that he rubbed over his face and neck. “I thought I’d be back before you woke up.”

“I only just woke up,” she said, combing her hand back through her hair in hopes of making it neater.

“How did you sleep?” he asked, not even hesitating to pull off his sweat-soaked shirt and drop it into the bag they were using for laundry purposes.

“Better,” she said, crossing her legs beneath the duvet to get more comfortable. She had to say something else to avoid saying anything about his chest as he put on a clean shirt. “I hate to admit it, but the painkillers help.”

“And no morning sickness today, that’s a win,” he noted positively.

“So far, so good,” she agreed, before she noted the small plastic bag he’d placed down next to his shoes at the door. It didn’t look anything like the bags of bagels he’d been bringing back for the last few days. “Have you been shopping?” she asked curiously.

His gaze moved to the bag, and he hesitated for a moment before he moved over to pick it up. There was a smile on his lips that was almost...shy? Oliver Queen didn’t do shy. Oliver Queen was confidence personified. But the nervousness that settled onto his features only deepened as he stepped towards her, toying with the bag. “Yeah, I...didn’t plan it. I changed my route and ran past this store and it was in the window. The owner was just opening up so I...I don’t know, I just thought you’d like it,” he stammered.

_ Do you like it? It’s beautiful. I thought you could wear it for me tonight.  _

Stammered. Oliver Queen, babbling like a trueborn Smoak.

When he held the bag out to her, she took it. He moved to sit opposite her, crossing his legs beneath him in a mimic of her position as she tipped out the contents of the bag into her lap. A small pile of yellow fabric piled onto her leg, and she turned it over, unfolding it carefully to see the full shape of the tiny onesie emblazoned with the words ‘ _ my mommy’s the best _ ’ written in mint green shapes. Immediately, a pit of warmth burst up from her stomach to settle in her chest, something remarkably similar to the way she felt when Oliver held her hand, but far stronger.

She swallowed thickly, tracing her fingers over the needlecraft letters. “Oliver…” she whispered.

“I hope it’s okay,” he said quietly, running his thumb over his forefinger in that nervous habit she’d noticed he had when he didn’t have a bow to toy with. “I thought after last night you needed a...symbol,” he explained. “Something you can hold on to, a sign that you can do this.”

_ What makes you think you’d be a good parent? You can’t even get up off the ground. _

“My mommy’s the best,” she read aloud from the front of the onesie. Her eyes misted over without her control - hormones were a damn inconvenience - but her emotions ran high as she held onto the material. He was right - despite the assurance that she’d be a good mother and her determination to be a wonderful mother, she still didn’t acknowledge that it was...real. The little outfit in her hands, however, was real. 

As if he were reading her mind, he spoke with a breathless disbelief. “Honestly, I can’t believe how small it is,” he told her. “The owner said it was newborn size.”

Newborn size. It was so small, so tiny. How could a human being be allowed into the world when it was so delicate and brand new? How could it be ready to join the world when it was so defenceless and so...small. And yet the idea of it coming out of her suddenly made the onesie feel so large in her hands. 

But if it seemed small in hers, how small would it seem in Oliver’s? He’d be able to hold something this tiny in just the palms of his hands. And he wanted to. He’d made that very clear now, and he didn’t just want to hold her baby. He wanted to comfort it, raise it, love it, and that brought a more dangerous sheen of tears to her eyes. 

“Oliver…” she whispered, fighting hard to keep the moisture at bay as she looked back up at him. “What did I do to deserve someone like you?”

“You believed in me,” he smiled at her. His smile was beautiful, there was no other way to say it. She’d always thought that he didn’t smile enough, but the way he looked at her would always show her in her best light. Lately, he looked at her differently, like he wanted to rescue her, to save her, but now he looked at her as though everything had come together for him and she was the answer to every question he’d ever had. “Now it’s my turn to believe in you.”

When Felicity Smoak had met Darren, she lost herself in him. That was what everyone said about the violence though, right? She’d heard her mother talk about this crazy love that they were so completely lost in their bliss, how amazing it felt, how right it felt, but soon she’d been lost in something that wasn’t happiness, but far from it. 

Darren made her forget things. She quickly forgot that she loved to stay up until the early hours of the morning coding. She forgot what it was like to look in the mirror and not be using it to cover her bruises, making sure that her chosen outfit of the day wouldn’t reveal anything. She forgot everything that didn’t revolve around separating the two aspects of her life. She hadn’t believed it until it had happened to her. She forgot how to love herself unless he allowed her to, and she had never believed that she would love herself so little. 

And suddenly, everything was incredibly easy. In the end, every decision was easy as soon as she presented him as the answer. She’d needed to escape Darren, and sending her message to Oliver had given her the strength to get out of her apartment and get to the foundry. She needed somewhere to hide, and he’d given her shelter. She’d needed someone to give her hope, and he’d given her an option.

An option she was done considering.

She lifted the onesie a little, drawing his attention to it. “Was this the only one they sold?” she asked.

“No, they had a couple of different slogans in there,” he told her, before his face fell a little. It was only momentary, but she saw it. “Why? If you don’t like this one, I can return it, it’s just a-”

She shook her head quickly. “No, I don’t want to return it,” she cut him off. “I was wondering if maybe they had matching ones,” she said, looking up into his eyes with a slow one-shouldered shrug. “Like, one that said ‘my dad’s the best’ or something…” 

_ If you keep it, babies dad’s have rights, you know? I can prove you’re unfit.  _

The silence that followed was one of the most nerve wracking of her life, but since she was already choked with tears it was easy to disguise. There was a lot riding on his reaction to that statement, an entire future, possibly, but he drew in a breath, his next exhale releasing nothing but her name in a cautious whisper. “Felicity…”

The way he said her name almost broke her. “Will you really do this with me?” she checked, swallowing hard. “I need you to be sure.”

_ That kid is mine, always will be mine. If you leave me, I’ll make sure you never see it.  _

Darren’s voice was pushed away by Oliver placing his hand over hers where she clutched the onesie. “You know I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t sure.”

“I mean it, Oliver,” she insisted, her voice wavering dangerously. “Because I don’t think I could survive losing you.”

He shifted forward a few inches, bringing his other hand up to her cheek. “You aren’t going to lose me, Felicity,” he assured her, as his thumb coasted over her jaw. “I’m right here. You know how I feel.”   
  
“You’d never hurt me, would you?” she murmured.

_ If you leave me, I’ll bury you so deep even God won’t find you. _ _   
_   
“Never,” he swore. “I’d never hurt you, or your baby.”   
  
“So I don’t have to be alone?” she asked, her face crumpling on her last word. He drew her in closer with a small whisper of her name, her faze nuzzled into her neck as she released a few sobs into the curve of hard muscle.    
  
“Felicity, as long as I live and breathe, you’ll never be alone,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. It shattered what little was left of her defences, and she sagged against him, right into the arms that had been waiting for her for far longer than she realised. There, she was cut off, there she was in a bubble. She couldn’t hear Darren’s taunts. All she could hear was Oliver, all she could smell, see, touch was Oliver.    
  
“Okay,” she muttered, clenching her hand around the onesie.   
  
“Okay?” he repeated, knowing that she could feel his heartbeat speeding up. It was a steady thump against her collarbone, jolting with the reality of what they were agreeing to do.    
  
“Yeah,” she nodded, sniffling to control the tears. It wasn’t easy with his hand rubbing circles on her spine, but she managed to sink into him and hide the last of her tears in his shoulder before he was easing her upright again, cupping his hand under her chin to bring her gaze up to his. He adjusted them slightly, their crossed legs meeting at the knees as they faced each other.   
  
“Come here,” he murmured, before he placed a hand on each of her cheeks, securing them both to each other. “I want you to tell me what you want for this baby.”   
  
She frowned a little, resting the weight of her head in his hands. “What do you mean?”   
  
“All the little things you imagined, things you want your baby to do, to have....” he reeled off, his eyes dancing with an eagerness that she wished she could match. “Tell me how you pictured being a mother.”   
  
“I...don’t know,” she confessed in a mumble.   
  
“Yes, you do,” he encouraged her.

She released her breath in a sigh. She had thought about it. She’d had a lot of time to think about it, and not just over the last week. Since her father had left, Felicity had put a lot of thought into what kind of parent she wanted to be when she grew up - except now she was about to be a mother and she didn’t feel at all grown up. But certain facts stayed in her mind, and one of them fell from her lips as she flickered her eyes down at the onesie.   
  
“I...a girl I went to college with, her sister had a baby and we had to go to the shower. She had this really nice nursery set up,” she remembered.   
  
“So a nice nursery, okay,” he nodded simply. “What colour?”   
  
“All of them… Like a jungle,” she said, a smile finally coming to her cheeks. “I always wanted my Dad to paint animals on my walls,” she remembered.   
  
“That would look great,” he agreed. “You could get those huge animal plushes to sit in the corners, and bedding for the crib with animals on too. You could theme a whole room on it,” he rambled eagerly.   
  
She let out a choking laugh, imagining the details coming together. It sounded like a department store put-together example of a nursery, but it also sounded wonderful - however unattainable. “I don’t exactly have a job to fund it right now, Oliver.”   
  
“It doesn’t matter,” he shrugged. “This is about figuring out what you want, and what you’re going to cling to on days when this feels hard.”   
  
She nodded against his palms, letting that sink in. She could imagine, if not purchase. “I don’t want ugly maternity clothes,” she decided, adding to her list. She’d seen what the stores had to offer for low-income mothers, and while she had savings, a place to live and things for her child were higher up the list than whatever she needed to buy for herself.   
  
“Now that’s definitely do-able,” he laughed lightly, as if the idea of her wearing something ugly was unthinkable. “What about colours?” he asked, encouraging her further. “Would you go pink or purple for a girl? A lot of people assume pink, but Thea hated it. She had the biggest tantrums, we had to get everything in a light purple colour or she wouldn’t have it,” he rambled. He was starting to sound like her, but she knew that he was just trying to lift her spirits. Still, from what she knew of Thea she could almost picture the horrified expression on her face and the explosive temper that could be heard for miles around when presented with something pink.    
  
“Lilac,” she supplied, filling his knowledge.   
  
“That’s it,” he nodded.   
  
“I like lilac,” she reasoned. She’d had the same colour in her own bedroom when she was younger - not out of choice, but because it was already on the walls when they’d moved into the small two-bedroom apartment that her mother still lived in.   
  
“I suppose it’s easy for a boy,” he reasoned. “Blue’s always a good pick, and you always look beautiful in blue, so he obviously would as well.”

“Green,” she corrected quietly.   
  
He blinked before he frowned slightly. “What?”   
  
“I’d want green for a boy,” she explained.   
  
“Because of the Arrow,” he asked curiously.   
  
“Because of you,” she whispered.

She saw his reaction flicker across his face in waves. What started as just a glimmer ended with a show of emotion she had rarely seen, a smile so broad and genuine, as if he didn’t quite believe he was hearing what she was saying. His fingertips pressed into her cheeks ever so slightly, as if he were checking that she was real, that he could really feel her within his grasp. His eyes misted over, a sheen covering the blue orbs that gazed back at her. This was Oliver as she’d never really seen him - not just a man in love, but a man truly loved in return.    
  
“Felicity Smoak...you are making me want to kiss you,” he breathed out, his lingering exhale reaching her own lips in their proximity.   
  
Curiosity peaked at his words, and a small frown threatened her forehead. “You haven’t kissed me yet,” she noted.   
  
“No,” he said simply.   
  
“Why not?” she asked.   
  
His gaze flickered down to her lips first, and she could see that he was tempted, that he was thinking about it, which made it all the harder when his gaze darted away and back to hers. “It’s not the right time.”   
  
Her eyes flickered over his. “You keep telling me that you love me,” she pointed out.   
  
“And I do,” he assured her, inching his head upwards so his lips brushed against her forehead before planting a solid, firm kiss. She’d felt this in the hospital, but hadn’t lingered on what it had been like to really feel his lips against her skin. He was warm, soft, lips that were far more gentle than the callouses on his fingertips. She leaned into his touch pressing back against his lips. When he exhaled, she felt it brushing over her skin, sending a tingle of warmth down her spine as her hand came up to clasp around the back of his neck, holding him to her. “But I know that when I start kissing you, I’ll never be able to stop, and I need you to be ready.”   
  
“Oh,” she whispered, tensing her fingers around the his neck a little, but not breaking away from him.   
  
Of course that was what it meant. He loved her. He wanted to kiss her. But he didn’t want to stop. Opening up to Oliver like this wasn’t just about her baby, and securing love for her baby, but she was opening up herself to him as well. If they were really doing this together, it meant that they were starting a relationship. Oliver and Felicity. A real relationship. A family.    
  
“I meant what I said, Felicity,” he whispered. “Right now, you and the baby are the priority. But when you are ready to be loved by me, you won’t regret it.”

An ironic smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “You sound very sure of that for someone who didn’t think he could be with someone he cared about,” she pointed out.

She felt his guilt returning in his scowl. “And look what that cost you,” he pointed out. “I can be a better man for you if I am right here with you, Felicity. I want to be the kind of man that you deserve...and the kind of father that your child deserves.”

His chin lowered, and he settled his forehead against hers instead, cementing the two together with their grasps on one another. Her stomach rolled a little, which she hoped was nerves, but it only made her clutch tighter to him, the need to revel in his touch only increasing the more he gave himself to her.   
  
“Do you really think we can do this?” she asked him.   
  
“I think we can do anything,” he said confidently. 

Her stomach rolled again, her face twisting in discomfort. “What is it?”   
  
“I think I’m going to be sick,” she gasped out, clamping her hand up over her mouth.   
  
“Too cheesy?” he asked for a moment, but then he caught the look on her face and leaned aside. “Oh, morning sickness. Here, trashcan.” **  
** **  
** \--

Oliver was itching to hit something with the knowledge that Darren was still untraced, and the idea that he didn’t know where he was made him all the more desperate to lash out. Felicity’s pain was going unpunished, and he couldn’t live with that, not when forcing penance was his line of work. It was dangerous enough that he had access to her old apartment, knew where she’d worked, knew where she liked to eat, to get her coffee, but the idea that he might still be keeping track of her was making him itch, so he did what he could do to scratch that itch.

In the days that passed, something drastic shifted between Oliver and Felicity. Something new, something fresh, something oddly grounding that he’d never had before. She wanted him to raise her baby with her, which wasn’t just a deal to help out a friend - they were going to have a child together. Diggle knew the truth, something they knew he’d told Lyla as well, but as far as everyone else would be concerned, Oliver and Felicity had a fling over the summer that had resulted in a pregnancy and them attempting a real relationship. 

But while something had shifted, the changes that accompanied it were subtle. She still slept in his arms, but she welcomed the brush of his fingers over her arm as she fell asleep. She still wore his shirt to sleep in, even with her pyjama pants. He still held her hair back for her while she suffered with morning sickness. He reached for her, opened his arms to her, and found that she was getting more comfortable walking into them. She was happy to not just be embraced, but to slide her arms around him too.

She did it randomly - hugged him when he wasn’t expecting it. His favourite was the way she’d sneak a quick hug when he was brushing his teeth, mainly because he rarely wore a shirt at that point in his routine and he’d get to feel her hands around his waist. She explored him slowly, not just as a new relationship but as a new experience - the promise of a healthy relationship with someone she’d openly crushed on for the last two years. 

They fell into a routine. When he came back from his run, she’d be messing with the coffee maker he hadn’t bothered trying to figure out, but she insisted that if the maid service was bringing refills for it then they should stop paying for coffee down the street. Instead, he just returned with the bagels that she’d really started to love for not making her heave up the contents of her stomach like most other foods, and they’d share breakfast on the bed watching crappy morning television before he went to shower. 

Today, she’d deviated their routine with her need for fresh air. She’d needed a few components for her laptop, and Diggle had offered to drive her and stay with her at the store - bodyguard duties back on track, without dispute from any of them - so it had given Oliver an opportunity to take out his frustrations on the dummies in the foundry instead. 

“Oliver…”

He slammed the back of his hand against one of the wooden arms before he turned, watching his friend walk towards him. “Digg?”   
  
Diggle walked up to him before taking a seat on the corner of one of the tables. “What are you doing down here, man?”   
  
Oliver looked over his shoulder, waiting for the sight of the bright pink shirt Felicity had been wearing that morning, the flash of colour she always provided to his day even when she wasn’t feeling at her best, and frowned when it didn’t appear. He ignored Diggle’s question entirely. “Where’s Felicity?” he asked.   
  
“She’s at my place with Lyla. She had some questions about pregnancy and I figured she’s the best person for the job,” Diggle told him. The answer gave Oliver enough assurance that he wiped his face with his discarded shirt and reached for his water. “Gives us some time to figure things out with you.”   
  
He shook his head, taking a few catching breaths as he set his water bottle down. “I am not the important person here, Digg.”   
  
“No, you are,” Diggle insisted, fixing him with a stare. “Because from what I hear, you’ve volunteered to be this baby’s father.”

Oliver stopped, reaching for a clean shirt before he moved to sit in the nearest chair. He was overwhelmed by a scent of perfume before he realised it lingered from the cardigan Felicity had left slung over the back the last time she was in the foundry. He let out a sigh as he did, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “I can’t let her do this alone, Digg,” he told him.   
  
Diggle raised a single eyebrow in his direction. “Is that the real reason?”   
  
Oliver matched his expression. “You know why I’m doing this.”   
  
Surprisingly, after all the subtle remarks he’d endured about his feelings towards Felicity, this time, Diggle a gave him a look of disappointment. “She’s been through a lot, Oliver. This isn’t the best time for her to be thrown into a relationship,” he reminded him.   
  
He frowned as he sat upright, leaning back in the chair. “I’m not throwing her into anything,” he denied quickly, frowning at the assumption that he might push her for more than she was ready for. “She knows how I feel, and that’s waiting for her whenever she’s ready for it.”   
  
“And what if it’s never?” Diggle tested him.   
  
“Then-”   
  
“Oliver, she has been through hell,” he cut him off.   
  
“Don’t you think I know that, Digg?” Oliver cried, pushing up to his feet.   
  
“Oliver-”   
  
“Who do you think held her hand in the hospital, John?” he reminded him, his voice rising loudly as he did. He could feel his mind travelling back to that night, everything he’d seen, heard, and soon he was pacing in front of his friend, punctuating his pained words with wild gestures of his arm. “I was there with her, the whole time. I saw every mark, every scar, every bruise. I saw the look on her face when they asked her if they needed a rape kit carried out. Have you ever witnessed a woman shut down like that, John?”

Digge was silent, drawing in a breath as his hand came up to cover his face. While he’d been at the hospital with them, he hadn’t had to watch anything close to what Oliver had seen her endure when he’d been at her side. All he’d seen was the condition they took her in as, and the expression on Oliver’s face when he’d come out to explain what had happened.

“I watched every single part of her just... _ shut down _ ,” he breathed out, slowing to a stop with his hands shaking before him. He brought them up to run through his short hair before he righted himself again. “I was the one who held her hand, who stroked her hair, who promised her she’d be okay, that she’d survive this, that she wouldn’t be alone. She  _ clung  _ to me, Digg, she...she wouldn’t let me go and she was holding me so tightly,” he recalled, a disbelieving tone in his voice. 

In hindsight, he didn’t even sound like he was talking about the same Felicity who bounced into the foundry just six weeks ago, calling them out and babbling away. “She held onto me like I could make everything stop, like I could take all her pain away if she just held on tightly enough...and the whole time all I can hear in the background is her baby’s heartbeat - this tiny little baby, a little version of her, and they’re both hurting, they both need someone to make it all okay - and she chose  _ me _ .  _ Me _ , John. The woman I love  _ needs  _ me, and I am never going to let them go,” he insisted, fully aware of the fierce tremor in his voice.   
  
“Oliver, it’s alright-” Diggle started, but Oliver cut him off.   
  
“No, John,  _ none of this is alright _ !”

Without a reply, Oliver’s outburst echoed in the open space. It made him step back, run a hand over his face and try to catch his breath. Anger like this was an emotion he couldn’t afford right now - if Felicity had witnessed this…   
  
“She’s not with him anymore,” Diggle said quietly. “She’s not going to be hurt again.”   
  
Oliver sighed, reaching for his water bottle again, the need to feel something in his hands increasing. “I’m sorry, I know you’re just looking out for her, I didn’t mean to take it out on you,” he said softly.   
  
“Oliver, you’re helping her through hell, it can’t be easy,” he reasoned.

Oliver shook his head, collapsing back down into the chair. This time, Diggle moved to sit in the one beside him, bringing them both to the same level. Oliver ran his fingertips over his forehead a few times with a heavy sigh that bordered on showing the emotions he was trying to contain. “It’s not easy. It’s...it’s  _ Felicity _ , John.”   
  
“What did the doctors have to say?” he asked.    
  
“Felicity told me that it had only been going on for around a year, but the doctors were talking about real abuse going on for a lot longer,” he muttered quietly, feeling his hand clenching into his fists.   
  
“He might not have been the first guy to do this to her?” he asked with a frown.   
  
Oliver lowered his head into the palm of his hand, bracing against it. “How could anyone do this to  _ her _ ?”   
  
“I don’t know, man.” Digg shook his head.   
  
“The way they talked about her in the hospital…” Oliver muttered quietly. “They’re talking about years of abuse, Digg...scars that will never fade completely, injuries that never healed right...emotional abuse, physical abuse, sexual…” His voice became distant for a moment, as if he weren’t speaking about the woman he claimed as the great love of his life. “A lot of the things they said sounded like the doctor who spoke to my mom when I came home. They told her that I might never recover...that I might never be the same.”   
  
“Oliver…” Diggle started.   
  
“What if she’s never the same?” he asked, a fearful tone creeping into his voice at the thought of something marring her soul with such permanence.    
  
Diggle flashed him a saddened smile. “She’ll always be our Felicity.”   
  
Oliver shook his head, looking up. “Why aren’t I out there with my hands around his throat?” he asked. “I want to hurt him, I want to  _ destroy  _ him for what he did to her...so why can’t I do it?”   
  
“Because she needs you more,” Diggle pointed out.   
  
“She needs to be protected,” Oliver said decisively. “Her and her baby. He can’t ever get to them again.”   
  
“She doesn’t want the police involved, I assume?” he said, with a disapproving tone.   
  
He confirmed it with a frustrated nod. “She refused to press charges when we were at the hospital. They tried to convince her to, but she didn’t want it dragged out. She just wanted to get away from him.”   
  
Diggle wiped a hand over his face with a heavy sigh. “She should have pressed charges.”   
  
“Digg, she wasn’t in any condition to be talking to the police,” Oliver shook his head.   
  
“Still, she knows it’s an option.”   
  
“She does,” he nodded.    
  
“What more did the hospital say?” he asked.   
  
“They want her to go in next week for her twelve-week scan, I think they want to talk to her then about some counselling,” he recalled, thinking back to the date that had gone into both of their phone calendars. “She says she doesn’t want it.”   
  
“She needs it,” Diggle mused quietly.   
  
“So do I, but it doesn’t mean it’s going to happen,” Oliver agreed. “All of this is on her terms.”   
**  
** **\--**

The sound of tennis balls punctured with metal was a sound that Oliver was all too familiar with now, but he smiled nonetheless. Roy’s training was going far better than it had been before the Mirakuru incident, his focus and drive were both increased, along with his stamina. Oliver knew he’d been hitting the streets a lot in his absence, which they’d explained to Roy as him taking care of Felicity after she’d been mugged on her way home. 

Roy made his way over, reaching for the water that Oliver offered him. “No Felicity today?” he asked, noting how quiet it was.   
  
Oliver didn’t meet his eyes, shaking his head as he continued to rework the arrowheads which had dented during this last excursion. “She had a thing.”   
  
“A check up on her wrist?” Roy pressed.   
  
“Something like that,” Oliver muttered. 

Truth be told, he was concerned. It was the day of her twelve-week scan, her first major meeting with the OBGYN who would see her through to the end of her pregnancy. He’d been fully prepared to go with her, but it hadn’t been until that morning as they were getting ready that she’d announced she wanted to go on her own. He hadn’t questioned her on it, but he’d seen it in her eyes - the resolve to do something on her own two feet, the determination to remind herself of him before she gave herself up to lean on him. 

He’d wanted to go with her, but this was her journey to begin.   
  
“She looked pretty beat up the other week,” Roy commented, drawing him away from his thoughts.. “Are you sure it was just a mugging?”   
  
“Roy, it’s all handled,” Oliver said gruffly. “Really.”   
  
“Sure it is,” he muttered under his breath.    
  
Oliver turned to him with a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”   
  
“Nothing,” Roy said airily. “Just that you...handled it.”   
  
Oliver was saved from making any such reply to Roy by the excited declaration of “Oliver!” that heralded Felicity’s arrival. He hadn’t heard that tone in her voice since before that night he’d seen her injured, so it drew a surprised smile to his lips when the sound of heels against the metal steps reminded him of far simpler times.   
  
“Felicity?” he flagged her down, watching her beaming smile with one of his own.   
  
“I’ll...make myself scarce.” Roy muttered behind him.   
  
“Good choice,” he replied, barely casting a look back over his shoulder when he saw her last step off the stairs and then that she was almost  _ skipping  _ in his direction. 

She looked like herself again. A bright blue cardigan hung over her baby-pink dress, a stark contrast in shade that seemed to scream of the casual  _ girl or boy _ conversation they’d had the night before over their Big Belly Burger, complete with a pair of her signature heels. Her lips were even painted to match, something he hadn’t seen for a while, but he’d found something of a fondness in watching her apply her makeup over the bathroom mirror while he was brushing his teeth that morning. 

She reached him with a pleased smile on her face. “Hey, sorry I’m late.” she muttered brightly as she came to a stop in front of him, grasped his hands and leaned up on her toes to kiss him.

He drew in a breath quickly, finding her lips out of his reach just a second after they’d been planted against his - but it was enough. It was a step. It was a wonderful, delicious step, and he was fairly certain that some of her pink stain had transferred to his lips and he subconsciously darted his tongue out to lick his lips, his stomach stirring when he could taste her lingering after just a moment. What would it be like if he tasted more? Was that something he could survive?   
  
“Don’t be,” he said, clearing his throat. “You were with Diggle right?” he asked, looking over her shoulder briefly because if his gaze flickered to her lips he would kiss her again, and again, and he might never stop.   
  
“Yeah, he’s parking up outside,” she said dismissively. “I wanted to talk to you for a second before he got here, if that’s okay?” she asked, biting down on her lower lip and she really,  _ really  _  shouldn’t do that.   
  
He instantly dropped to a small frown, his hands coming up to her upper arms.“Is everything okay?” he asked her.   
  
“Everything’s fine,” she beamed.   
  
“Really?” he checked. Nothing at all to worry about?”   
  
His eyes flickered over her face, then down to her stomach. While the bruising to her face had entirely faded he hadn’t seen the dark bruise to her waist and stomach since the first time he’d laid eyes on it, and while she wasn’t moving as cautiously as she had been, it was certainly a concern of his. “They checked everything, they said it was mostly surface bruising which has faded...They said everything looks fine for twelve weeks, so it’s something of a safety point.”   
  
A breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding was released, a tension from deep in his shoulders disappearing. “Good. Good...that’s fantastic,” he agreed, feeling a smile hit his own cheeks.    
  
“I got to hear the heartbeat again too, which was nice,” she added, her mouth running quickly, while she was digging around in her handbag. “I don’t think I was paying attention the first time around. Oh, and this…”

He was suddenly lost in the memory of that night in the hospital, the fast thump of the baby’s heartbeat that had sounded while she’d buried herself against him. He wondered what she’d thought of when she heard it, whether it had made her chest burst like his had, whether it had opened up a whole new world to her. He was so lost in that moment that he didn’t see what she was handing him until she was thrusting it into his hand. A small square of paper, barely bigger than a polaroid, and in the centre was---   
  
“Wow…”

_ Baby Smoak. 12 weeks. M: Felicity M Smoak _ _   
_   
“That one’s for you,” she said, still chewing on her lip.   
  
He dragged his eyes up from the black and white blur he was staring at. “What?”   
  
“The picture, it’s yours,” she said, nodding down to it and tapping the back of it. It gave a small jolt in his hands, not unlike a baby kicking, and he smiled. “They gave me two, and I realised I don’t have anyone else to give one to,” she added.

He tried not to think it symbolic; her giving him her child, her unborn baby, for record, for safekeeping, for adoration.    
  
“Thank you,” he smiled, his voice tight in a way that he had to clear his throat. “This is really…”   
  
“Scary?” she suggested with a small wince.   
  
“Nice,” he corrected, putting his arm around her shoulder and drawing her into his side. Now, they both looked over the scan photo together. “That’s your baby,” he murmured in disbelief.   
  
She hummed, tilting her head in a way that meant she leant her temple against his shoulder. “It doesn’t look like a baby,” she pointed out.

He laughed his agreement. “It looks like a bean with a giant head.”   
  
“Clearly the giant head comes from me,” she scoffed.   
  
“It needs something to fit its big brain in,” he added.   
  
“I hope the head doesn’t stay that much bigger. It does have to come out of me.”

He laughed, leaning back slightly so that he could watch her cheeks turning up with her grin. She looked happy, truly, happy. He’d been so afraid that a part of her would be terrified of this child, half her, half the reminder of how she’d been hurt - even more so with the addition of how she’d refused to look at the baby when they were in the hospital, but this...this smile...this excitement...this was exactly how she  _ should  _ look at her unborn child.

“What, why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.   
  
He startled a little, squeezing a hand on her shoulder when he realised she was looking at him. “I haven’t seen you smile this much in a while,” he noted.   
  
“I’m happy,” she murmured back at him.   
  
“Is that why you kissed me when you came in?” he asked with an obvious raise of his eyebrow.    
  
Her cheeks flushed red as she looked back down. “You noticed?”   
  
He laughed softly. “Things I’ve been going crazy waiting to do is something I tend to notice.”   
  
“Was it okay?” she asked, glancing back up at him hesitantly.   
  
“It was very okay,” he nodded, absently licking at his lips.   
  
She bit her lip in response. “Because if it wasn’t okay we can just-”   
  
“Maybe it needs a do-over,” he cut her off.   
  
She frowned. “It does?”   
  
“I wasn’t really concentrating the first time around.”   
  
“Oh,” she whispered, managing to take a breath before she felt his hands gently rest on her hips, turning them both to face one another and his lips were covering hers. This time, he lingered, no longer controlled by the shock of having her walk into his arms and kiss him as easily as if she did it every day. It was the kiss he’d been dying to give her every day since she’d whispered ‘okay’ to him. The kiss was an  _ I choose you,  _ a  _ yes,  _ a  _ finally. _ He touched her lips once, twice, three times, delving in softly again and again until he could feel something inside him declare  _ oh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you. _

But then she was placing her hands on his chest, urging him back a little and he indulged her sudden need for space, glad to see that she was still smiling when they parted and that her cheeks her flushed. “Oh, I should...probably tell you something,” she said, slightly breathlessly.    
  
“What is it?” he murmured.    
  
“They went through more paperwork this time. They had to start a file, you know, for the baby, with a doctor I’ll see regularly,” she raised her hand, tucking her hair behind her ear nervously.    
  
“Okay,” he frowned a little. “Is it a good doctor? Because if you’re worried I can arrange-”   
  
“No, the doctor’s fine, really,” she insisted with a firm nod. “It’s just...they wanted to take down family history and they asked me the name of the baby’s father.”

_ Oh. _ _   
_   
“Oh.”   
  
“I gave them your name.”   
  


_ Oh. _ _   
  
_

He cleared his throat, the hands that were still on her waist tensing a little. It was a jolt in his chest that he hadn’t expected, something that cemented this suddenly very-real thing that they were doing. On paper, they have a child together. On official hospital records, he helped create that little life growing within her. He was going to be a father. The thought did make his throat constrict a little. “And how did that make you feel?” he choked out.    
  
“Nervous,” she mumbled. “Good nervous, I think.”   
  
Good nervous. That meant she was still in this with him, that they were still headfirst together. He brought his hands down to hers, gripping her fingers tightly. “I guess that makes it official now,” he nodded.   
  
“Yeah. We’re really doing this,” she exhaled.    
  
“We’re having a baby,” he said, testing the phrase out and feeling a nervous and delighted flutter in his chest.   
  
She swallowed, biting her lip with a half-smile. “Okay, now it’s sounding terrifying again.”   
  
He laughed, swinging her hands a little. “Felicity, look at me…” he said lightly, waiting for her eyes to meet his again. “We’re having a baby,” he repeated.   
  
This time, she drew in a breath, something registering in her gaze that he’d first seen when he’d presented her with the tiny onesie. Something happy. Something frightened yet excited. The look of an expectant mother. “Yeah.”   
  
“You and I are having a baby,” he rephrased, and  _ that _ broke something within him which was hardened, something that was previously stone-cold and shut off from the world. The quiet dream he kept to himself.    
  
“Wow,” she whispered, her eyes firmly on him.   
  
He leaned in a little, hovering just in front of her and just  _ loving  _ her in the instant that she leaned up to meet him halfway. But he pulled back just out of her reach. “Felicity, do you want to kiss me again?” he asked her gently.   
  
“Yeah,” she whispered.   
  
“Then let me take you to dinner tonight.”   
  
She blinked at him as she pulled her head back. “Tonight?” she repeated.   
  
“I want to do this right,” he decided, his hands tightening around hers again. “If we’re doing this together, I don’t want us to miss out on the small things just because we’re diving headfirst into the big things. So if you’d like to, I’d really like to take you out to dinner tonight.”   
  


She grinned up at him, more beautiful than ever. It was shy, innocent, and elated all at the same time.    
  
“I...I’d like that,” she nodded.   
  
“So would I,” he smiled, ducking down to kiss her forehead, avoiding her lips in anticipation of the evening ahead of them. “Is there anything that’s easier on your stomach at the moment?”   
  
“Anything but Chinese food,” she blanched, thinking back to his muffled apologies through the bathroom door three nights previously.    
  
“Okay. I’ll make us a reservation,” he nodded.   
  
“Okay,” she said through a deep breath.   
  
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you? Okay?” he checked.   
  
“Yeah, just...a bit...stunned,” she mumbled, chewing on her lip again with a surprised laugh. “This is a very good day.”   
  
He smiled back at her, stroking his thumb over the inside of her palm. “I told you, this is what you deserve.”   
  


And then everything became very heady, because he realised how truly right this felt. He realised how completely and utterly in love with this woman he was. He didn’t just love her. He was in love with her, and he understood the difference between the two. Because on paper, he had fathered her child, he was going to be listed on a birth certificate. He was going to be called for parent-teacher meetings, be a fifty-percent influence on this child, and he, above all else, was starting a family. He was starting a family with the woman he loved.   
  


And they both seemed to realise it at the same moment. She stepped back with a small cough in the back of her throat, releasing his hand. “We should probably let Roy and Digg back in. They’re going to get suspicious,” she laughed nervously.   
  
“I’d better hide this picture then,” he nodded, holding up the scan photo. He took his wallet out of his back pocket, sliding it into one of the credit card slots. For the first time, he wished he had a wallet with a real photograph space.   
  
“...you’re putting it in your wallet?” Felicity asked slowly.   
  
He looked up, a confused frown settling on his face. “Yeah, is that okay?”   
  
She watched him curiously. “It’s just...that’s a  _ ‘dad’  _ thing,” she mumbled.   
  


He grinned, placed a kiss on her cheek, just as he heard footsteps on the stairs behind them. “Perfect.”

 

\--

 

Taking Felicity on a date was everything that he ever imagined it to be. Despite last minute preparation, he’d managed to get a table for two at a small Italian restaurant not far from the hotel they were staying at. He’d never seen it before, despite having walked past it several times on his way in and out of the hotel, but when they stepped inside that evening he knew that he’d made the right decision. It was intimate for its small capacity, and despite their busy evening it only seated about fifteen small tables. 

A waiter showed them to their table at the back of the restaurant, the chairs slightly off centre in a way that allowed them to sit close to each other rather than opposite one another. Oliver helped her with her coat and into the chair, admiring the simple red dress that swung around her hips. It wasn’t all that different to something she’d have once worn to the office, but paired with a beautiful set of heels and a radiant smile, she looked wonderful. It made him want to take her back to the hotel and kiss her for the rest of the night. 

And despite everything, their conversation was relaxed. Having confirmation of the baby being at a safety point, and Felicity both feeling and looking better, it put them both at ease. She didn’t hesitate to place her hand over his on the table, although she didn’t eat as much as either of them had hoped before she could feel her stomach protesting. But rather than leaving, they remained there long into the night, until everyone else had left and the candle on the table had burned down until almost nothing.

Their walk back was in silence, comfortable and slow as they meandered the one-block route back to the hotel room. Felicity looked through her bag for the keycard, pausing as Oliver put his hand on her elbow. “I’ve almost got it-”

“Wait,” he whispered. “We should do this properly.”

She turned her gaze up to him. “Do what properly?” she asked.

“Our first date,” he told her. “Date’s over, I want to...kiss you goodnight.”

She smiled up at him, several inches shorter than her despite the heels she was wearing. “You’ve been kissing me all afternoon,” she pointed out as his hand moved from her elbow, trailing a path up her arm until his fingertips were brushing over her shoulder.

“So?” he mused, smiling as he continued his path until he was tilting up her chin. As soon as he had done, she could feel his breath melting over her lips, taunting her with the taste of him she’d already developed an addiction too.

When he finally kissed her, it was chaste - something she’d have never have imagined from him. She could feel his hesitance, his reluctance to push her so far, but the sweetness of this moment - as if it were a real first night for them together - made her want to savour it. His hands came up to her cheek, cradling her against him as she sank into the wall at her back, sneaking her hand up into the soft strands of hair at the base of his skull.

He pulled away far too early, tucking her hair behind her ear as he smiled down at her. He said nothing, his adoration for her silently spoken from his eyes alone, evident in the way he held her. “If this is a first date, does that mean you’re not coming inside?” she asked, a slight tease in her tone as she finally touched the keycard in her hand and held it up for him to see.

“As much as I’d love to play the gentleman… it is my room,” he pointed out, taking the card from her and opening the door, inviting her to walk in first.

Once the door was closed, they settled quickly into the evening routine they’d managed to work into one another’s space. Oliver used the bathroom first, washing his face before he came out. Felicity went in after him, allowing him the privacy to strip down to his boxers and change into a pair of sweatpants before sliding into his side of the bed. Usually, he slept in just boxers alone, but he made sure to put something else on to make it more comfortable for Felicity.

She spent longer in the bathroom, appearing some time later just as he was starting to calm the rush of emotion in his stomach he could only describe as happiness. Her hair was brushed, swept over one shoulder of his shirt. Despite reclaiming several pairs of pyjamas from her place, she seemed to enjoy sleeping in his shirt with a pair of her pyjama pants, and he hadn’t said anything about it - he couldn’t voice it to her yet, but there was something primal that stirred in him whenever she did, as if it were clarification that she was with him, and he didn’t want that admission to startle her. She’d also scrubbed off her makeup, and approached him bare faced and bare footed in the bed.

Things had shifted that day, since she had kissed him in the foundry, and it made him curious how it would shift throughout the night. He was used to her settling on her side and drawing his arm around her, but tonight he was laid on his back as she got into the bed. This time she faced him, in the semi-darkness of the room. He shifted towards her, turning off the lamp and plunging the room into darkness as he did. As his head hit the pillow again, facing towards her and mimicking her position, he felt a slender hand grasp his as she tucked her head beneath his chin. He released a sigh into her hair, the blonde locks muffling the sound to hide it. “Felicity,” he whispered, not sure himself what the rest of that sentence was going to be because he was interrupted with a new sensation of touch when her lips touched his collarbone. It was a fleeting brush, but an action that secured his next movement nonetheless.

His head shifted back so that he could see her face, seeing the softness in her eyes that he’d only imagined before. There were no words as they leaned towards one another slowly, their faces brushing together at first. For that moment, they merely shared the same air, their breaths mingling with their lips barely an inch apart, but then they finally met in the middle. Content sighs blended into their exchange, and just one word reverberated through his mind… right, right, right...this was right. He could have stayed in this moment until the end of days, but he felt her hand shift, and suddenly he was a slave to her every need.

Her fingers entwined in the short hair on the back of his neck as his buried into her hair. He needed to feel her - whichever parts of her he could reach - so that he could remember exactly what her hair felt like, her cheek, her lips, the moment he got exactly what he’d dreamed of for the last year. He wanted to remember this moment perfectly, but all he could focus on was her lips against his.

The full intensity of the moment hit them, and he parted from her to meet her eyes. The reciprocated look of longing shimmered back at him in her eyes, matched for the first time in the emotions they were finally allowing themselves to feel. With that realisation, he felt his control snap, and Oliver leaned in, claiming her lips fully with his own. It took a staggering few moments for her to react, moving into the kiss as she let him slowly lead the kiss, neither daring to speed it up in case this precious contact was broken. Lips brushed over each other, gently lingering as they pressed together and parting only momentarily before they returned to the warmth. 

Felicity’s hand, already clasped around his neck, began to stroke through his hair, discovering a very sensitive area where his hairline faded into soft strands. The sensation sent a shudder echoing down in his spine, and he deepened the kiss, opening his lips further and tracing the edge of hers with his tongue, begging for entrance. All other thoughts were left aside when she allowed him in and knotted her tongue around his. Their mouths danced together slowly at first, but then she let out a tiny sound against him, so feminine, so passionate, so delightful, that he was driven with the need to hear it again. 

_ I wouldn’t do this is if you weren’t such a dirty girl. _

His hand left hers, pulling her against him. He could feel her every breath as he pressed her chest to his, but then his hand slid up the back of her shirt, relishing in the touch of warm skin. The surprised gasp separated their lips and she jerked back from him. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he whispered, bringing his hand away from her back settling it safely on her shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out.

_ You’re not sorry. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t have done it.  _

“No, you don’t have to be sorry,” he assured her. “Nothing’s wrong, it’s fine.”

“I just....” she struggled with herself, bringing her hand up as she chewed at her lips. “I liked it, I just… “

“You aren’t ready,” he finished for her. 

“I’m so-”

_ You’re just a tease, aren’t you? All talk, no action. I’m sick of it. _

“No,” he assured her, his gentle whisper accompanied by a stroke of his hand through her hair. “No apologies. You were hurt, we’re going take this at your pace.”

He could see her struggling with her response, so he kept his gaze on hers, waiting for her to find her voice. “I liked kissing you,” she whispered.

“Then we kiss,” he said simply. “We kiss and we kiss, until we both want more,” he emphasised. “But we have absolutely no reason to rush any of this, and we’re not going to.”

She ducked her head back beneath his chin, cementing her upper body against his. This time, his hand remained over the shirt she wore as he held her to him. She tensed but immediately relaxed against him, winding her leg through his to bring them even closer. “Okay?” he checked, waiting for her nod of approval before he relaxed into the position. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, so softly that he’d have missed it if she hadn’t been pressed against his chest.

_ You’re the only one who really loves me. You know that we’re made for each other. _

“I love you,” he responded simply, brushing his lips over her hairline until he was certain she’d fallen asleep.


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

“As you can see, it’s perfect for a starter home, especially with a baby on the way,” the realtor gushed, while Felicity bit her lip to keep from laughing as Oliver pulled faces behind the woman’s back. They’d been looking at apartments for the last week, trying to find something that fit all their needs - a secure building, not a ground floor apartment, midway between the foundry and the business district, two bedrooms, one bathroom and a separate kitchen (they’d briefly discussed how Oliver felt her old place didn’t qualify as a ‘proper’ apartment when the kitchen and living area had been part of the same room). Unsurprisingly, they’d yet to find something that fit their demands, and while the agents were quick to try and find something within their rental budget (buying was entirely out of the question when they were both unemployed), they amused themselves with spending their time lo oking around the apartments they had to offer.

“Felicity, do you want to play a game?” Oliver had muttered as they entered the foyer, waiting for the landlord to meet them.

“What game are we playing?” she asked curiously.

“Pick three words, we’ll play rental home bingo.”

Oliver’s playful spirit was something she hadn’t anticipated, but certainly since their date it had been something she saw a lot of. He stole chaste kisses whenever he could, replacing her fear of the unknown with subtle but small surprises. She’d jumped the first few times, but once she managed to surprise him back, and found that being playful with Oliver was something she enjoyed.

She nodded. “I’m going with ‘open-plan’, ‘potential’ and ‘character’,” she decided quickly, calling on the ones she’d heard more frequently the last few days.

He huffed slightly, puffing his chest up as he lowered his voice. “I wanted ‘potential’.”

“Tough, I called it,” she said simply.

He narrowed his eyes a little before he chose his own. “Alright, I’m going with ‘starter-home’, ‘cosy’ and ‘spacious’.”

“What does the winner get?” she asked. 

“The tub of mint chip that won’t survive another night in that tiny fridge,” he decided.

Her lips parted a little with a small frown. “You can’t win. You can’t deprive a pregnant woman of ice cream.”

“Maybe I’ll share,” he winked, before they greeted the landlord and were shown inside.

It wasn’t surprising that the mention of ‘starter home’ had Oliver winning their game of rental home bingo, after their tour of the ‘spacious’ living area and the ‘cosy’ second bedroom that would make a perfect nursery. It was certainly bigger than her old apartment, which she’d terminated the contract on last week. She’d lied to her current landlord that she’d needed to leave town quickly and wouldn’t be able to stay until the lease ended, and unable to spend much longer under the generosity of the free hotel room, apartment hunting had started.

Oliver had already agreed to move in with her. She didn’t feel safe staying on her own when she didn’t know where Darren was, and it made sense for him to move in with her if they were going to be doing this together. So while she looked at room sizes, he inspected the windows and asked about the secure entry systems. 

“What do you think?” he asked her, approaching where she stood looking into the smaller bedroom that would be the nursery. 

She looked around - she’d always found it hard to picture an apartment as being truly hers until it had her things in it. “What do you think?” she countered. “Does it have everything we need?”

“I think it’s nice,” he nodded, a small tap on the back of her hand - a pre-arranged signal - telling her that it was secure by his standards. “Do you like it?”

“Well, if it’s what we need-”

“Felicity,” he cut her off with a soft look, curling his fingers around hers. “Do you  _ like  _ it?” he asked her again.

She glanced around again, and for a moment, she tried to picture the jungle walls she’d told Oliver about before, and a crib against the left wall. It helped to picture Oliver sat in a small armchair, cradling a newborn in his arms. It helped a little more that the smile he was giving her was the same one in her imagination. 

“I like it,” she nodded.

Oliver turned his smile to the landlord, resting his hand on her lower back. “We’ll take it.”

\-----

Felicity found it hard to sleep once they’d moved into the new apartment. It wasn’t the shift of location, or the fact that she could assuringly tackle the four locks they’d installed on the door as well as upgrade the ones on each of the windows before she went to bed - it’s that no one was in the bed with her any more. While they were working with what limited furniture they had to fill the space - all of which had been collected by a removal company from her old apartment - it still felt like too much space for what they were used to after weeks sharing a tiny hotel room together.

She’d mentioned getting some of Oliver’s things out of storage - after all, it was his home too - but he’d told her that he had everything he needed and changed the subject.

She missed Oliver’s presence in the bed. Although this idea of a relationship still felt new, she had hoped that despite her hesitance, they had formed a new normal, but as soon as they had moved out of the hotel room and into the apartment, there was a very cold side of her bed that had never been slept in. He chose the couch instead, which had been set up in a way that gave a very clear view of the front door, the balcony door off the kitchen, and the small hallway that lead to both her bedroom and the still empty nursery-to-be. 

She’d got up to go to the bathroom one night and found him fast asleep, but still tense as if he might need to bolt awake at any moment. She realised he was waiting until he felt safe in the apartment to be able to relax next to her. Of course, by the time she’d come to the hotel room he’d been there long enough to assess every threat and establish a way out, but the apartment was still new. He’d been learning the creaks that sounded in the middle of the night, creating a back-up plan should they ever need it. 

She still got one hell of a goodnight kiss, though. She liked that. She was even starting to like it when he lost himself for a moment and she felt the doorframe pressing into her back as he shifted up against her. But it never went further.

After a few weeks, she was starting to notice real changes in her body. While she didn’t have a noticeable bump yet, there was definitely something forming. Her clothes felt tighter, a little extra weight around her hips that wasn’t shifting, and something inside of her that was absolutely shrinking her bladder. It was a small price to pay for the morning sickness finally easing off, though, and she was very proud to say that was now four days without rushing out of bed to vomit every morning. 

After her second trip to the bathroom since trying to fall asleep, she decided to get a glass of water. It probably wouldn’t help her mission to sleep for more than an hour at a time, but her mouth felt dry so she padded quietly towards the living area in hopes of not disturbing Oliver.

Except the light was on in the kitchen, and the man in question was hunched over the table with a spread of papers before him. She pulled her robe a little tighter around her, her bare feet on the linoleum floor sending a chill up her spine, and kept her voice light as she approached him.

“Oliver?” she questioned, watching his head shoot up.

“Hey, what are you doing up?” he asked softly.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she explained, passing him with a quick brush of her hand over his shoulder as she went to the sink. She took one of the clean glasses off the sideboard and filled it with water before she came back to stand beside him. “Neither could you, from the look of it.”

He flashed her a tiny smile, something soft and free that she’d only recently started to see on him - Oliver with his guard down. He didn’t do it often, maybe when they were talking about the baby, but she was seeing parts of him that she’d never seen before and she was grateful that he was allowing her the chance to witness them. “I still don’t really have a normal sleeping pattern down,” he explained, leaning back in the chair he was sat in.

It occurred to her that, in the last seven weeks, she’d never seen him fall asleep. She’d seen him bolt awake when she moved from the bed, walked in on him sleeping fitfully, woken to him trying to touch her assuringly, but she’d never seen him fall asleep. 

“How much do you actually sleep?” she asked him.

There was a twitch on his left eyebrow before he answered that told her she wouldn’t like his answer. “On a good night, maybe four, five hours?”

“And how many good nights do you have?” she asked with a tilt of her head.

Rather than what she expected, he gave her another smile, looking down at her stomach briefly before he met her eyes again. “More and more lately.”

She wasn’t sure what to say to that. She was sure that he still struggled with his nightmares, especially with what had happened to his mother and Slade’s involvement in it so fresh in his subconscious, but she was sure she hadn’t slept through one of his nightmares when he’d told her once how bad they could be. She wondered if that was why he was sleeping on the couch, if maybe he was afraid to have one beside her in case he hurt her, or stirred up memories of Darren she’d rather not relive.

She wondered if sleeping beside her in the bed had kept his nightmares away, and whether that had frightened him even more.

She turned her attention to the books and papers around him, sitting down in the chair beside him and placing down her glass. “What’s all this?” she asked.

“Hmm?” he startled slightly, as if he were too focused on her to hear her. 

“Business ethics?” she questioned, lifting the book directly before him and looking at the title page.

“Oh, yeah…” he murmured, taking a deep breath before he explained. “I’ve been reading up on some things.”

She glanced over the expanse of work again before she raised an eyebrow. “This is more than just some things, Oliver,” she pointed out, to which he merely shrugged in response. “Is this what was in that mysterious package earlier? I was starting to think you were buying baby things without me.”

He smiled once without control, then let out a small exhale that could have passed for a breath of shame. “Well, I was thinking that we’re not going to be able to fund this place on trust funds and savings forever,” he pointed out, as if he were shattering the bubble that they’d been existing in since they arrived in the apartment.

She faked a wince. “Oh god, are you sending me to the workhouse?”

This time, Oliver laughed despite himself, leaning forward slightly and running his fingers over the back of her hand. “No, but that might be an idea to consider. You do have tiny fingers.”

She closed her other hand over his, patting it to get his attention back on track. “So, come on. I just had a glass of water, I may as well stay awake until my next bathroom rush,” she encouraged him. 

He nodded, taking another breath before he stated his intentions. “I want to take Queen Consolidated back from the board of trustees.”

“Really?” she asked, her eyebrows rising in uniform this time. She hadn’t been expecting that, not even when she saw the business papers before him. He hadn’t shown any care towards his family company since his mother’s passing, and she was starting to think that he was happy to leave it to the Board to run as they saw fit until another buyer came along. 

He nodded slowly. “I think it’s time.”

“And the books?” she asked.

This time, his eyes rose to hers with a glint of amusement in them. “Well, it turns out I really don’t know anything about running a business.”

“I could have told you that,” she laughed softly.

“You did, several times.”

She bit her lip, clamping down on her smile. “Sorry.”

“No, it helped me realise that I wasn’t the right man for the job,” he assured her. “But I’m also not planning on being the man I was last year for that much longer.”

She frowned slightly at him, closing her hand a little tighter over his. “What do you mean?”

He looked out at the paperwork he’d been reading, the pile of books on the far side of the table carefully arranged in unit order. Felicity followed his gaze, putting it altogether. It was a course. Oliver Queen, despite his four failed attempts, was going back to college. “If we’re doing this together, Felicity, then someone’s going to be calling me ‘dad’. I’ll be a father, and fathers...provide for their families,” he pointed out.

“Oliver…” she started, but he cut her off with a shake of his head.

“Queen Consolidated is a family legacy. I stopped caring for it when my family fell apart, but now I feel like I have one again,” he said, with a nod at her stomach.

She softened her gaze as she let out a long breath. “You’re doing this for the baby?”

“I’m doing this for all of us, Felicity,” he corrected her. “We’d have the money to stay here, to carry on doing the work we want to do. I’d promise not to make you my assistant again,” he added.

She smiled, but then dropped it in place of a more meaningful look. “This is a huge thing, Oliver.”

“I know, but-”

“Not for the baby, for  _ you _ ,” she pointed out. “Your family went through a lot this year, and I know how hard it was for you. Are you sure you’re ready?”

He was still for the longest time. He seemed to put more thought into his answer than he had done into his original offer of raising her child with her. She, personally, thought it was a great idea for him. It would give him focus, maybe more sense of purpose than being the Arrow could even give him, and it would be something to do with his day that didn’t involve hunting down criminals. More so, she knew that his family name was important to him, and she was glad to see him laying his mother’s rule of that to rest in a healthy way that honoured his memories of her.

And then there was his motivation - doing it for his family. Restarting a family legacy, not just for him, but for all of them. Did that mean he had truly put more thought into this as a long-term arrangement than she’d realised? Was this something that the little pudge at her stomach was going to inherit one day? That was frightening enough to consider, and maybe they would need the money from the company to be sending a kid to college one day. 

_ Slow down, Felicity, you’ve got to get Oliver through college first. _

“Yeah, it’s time,” he murmured softly, his voice sure and steady.

She shifted her chair a little closer to his so they were shoulder-to-shoulder at the table. “Then tell me about all of this,” she told him.

“Really?” he asked her, tilting his head so he could see her from that angle. She nodded eagerly, no longer feeling the longing tug of sleep. He turned back to it, handing her the course outline that he’d written dates beside - goal dates, she realised. “It’s a business course, one of those learn-from-home crash courses. It’s not quite a Harvard degree, but it’ll be enough for me to hit the ground running.”

She kept her smile as she placed the outline down, resting her chin on his shoulder.. “Oliver Queen, studying, who’d have thought…”

He leaned his head against hers. “I have good motivation to study, for once.”

“You know that you don’t have to get a job to support us, right?” she pointed out, not wanting to put any pressure on him to provide more for her than he already had. “I’ve got some freelance work over the next few weeks, people always need good IT help...we’d get by.”

“I know, but this is...important to me,” he told her softly, running his thumb over the spine of the nearest book the same way that he would have done with a bowstring in his nervous habit. “I want to be a good father, and that includes being a role model. A good father provides for their child.”

He muttered the last few words as if reciting a mantra. She wondered if it was something that his father had told him, whether he held it close to his heart. She knew enough about Oliver’s past to know that he’d enjoyed his childhood, despite being an unruly child. His father had been a successful businessman before he became corrupt, and Oliver’s entire crusade had been based on his father’s plea for him to right his wrongs. She had no doubt that there was far more to his relationship with his father than he may ever tell her, but she was happier with the idea of Oliver parenting with her on that basis than she would ever have been with Darren. 

Oliver wanted this baby, she realised, not for the first time. He didn’t just want to rescue her, to save her out of a hero’s obligation. He really did love her, and he did want a family with her. Just because the family was coming as a package deal and faster than he might have ever imagined, didn’t make it any less important to him. Oliver was seeing this child as an opportunity to better himself, to become a role model, to become a leader outside of field tactics, to settle into a role in a new team that he’d never had a lead role in before. Family.

She cleared her throat against the way it tightened from the rush of emotions - something the hormones only seemed to be making worse - and took the book from his hands. “You’ve been reading ethics, right?” she said, waiting for his nod before she opened it up and skimmed the contents page. “Let me quiz you.”

“Why?” he asked softly, a confused frown crossing his forehead.

“Because a good family works together,” she said, looking up at him with a small shrug. It may not be a mantra of family origin, but it had been something she’d always hoped for. “You can’t take back a family business without your family, right?”

The smile that crossed his face next was definitely nothing she’d ever seen before, not even when she’d kissed him and shown him the ultrasound of the baby in the same two-minute period. His smile was glorious. It was soft but powerful, gentle but passionate. His smile was love. 

No one had ever looked at her like that before.

She supposed no one had ever loved her like Oliver did.

“Right,” he cleared his throat, before his arm slipped over her shoulder and pulled her closer to him.  

 

**\------** **  
  
**

The first time he took a bad hit during a night out, Oliver swore blind, that the way Felicity cried out his name over the comms unit almost made him hang up the hood there and then. It hadn’t been a dangerous injury, but he was very aware of her silence over the earpiece as he made his way back to the foundry afterwards, despite several attempts to coax out her voice. Diggle, in the end, advised him that she’d stepped away from her computer.

When he came back inside she was still in the bathroom, but she came out wringing her hands nervously while Diggle was seeing to a cut on his arm. It was bleeding, but not profusely, and while it wouldn’t need stitches, it was soaking through the undershirt he wore beneath his jacket.

She wordlessly took over from Diggle in cleaning it for him, and once she was close enough, Oliver noticed the familiar tinge on her cheeks that accompanied her morning sickness. He’d thought it was past her. Had concern rolled her stomach? Had fear clenched at her insides until they were emptied? Had her fear for him choked her?

She remained silent as she worked, his eyes fixated on hers that didn’t meet his behind her glasses. “Does that hurt?” she whispered eventually, pressing a protective bandage over the area.   
  
“It’s okay…” he assured her gently, tugging her hand into his grasp.   
  
“Oliver…” she breathed out, a dangerous warning of tears wavering on the edge of her voice.   
  
“Felicity, it’s okay,” he told her sweetly. “I’m okay.”   
  
“You’re bleeding,” she pointed out, taking back her hand from him so she could secure the bandage in place.   
  
“It’s just a little cut, I’ll be fine,” he assured her, but he waited until she was finished before he was pulling her back towards him. She held her ground, staying just out of his reach with her hand linked with his. “Hey, come here. I’m okay,” he whispered.   
  
She shook her head. “Doesn’t it hurt?”   
  
“It’s fine,” he told her.   
  
She let out a shaking breath. “Oliver…if this had been any lower it could have hit your artery-”   
  
“-it didn’t-   
  
“-and that would have been  _ fatal _ , Oliver.”   
  
“It wasn’t.”   
  
“You would have  _ died _ .”   
  
“Felicity-”   
  
“You can’t die, Oliver,” she said, pulling her hand out of his as she brought her hands up to cover her mouth, posed in a prayer position as she tried to fight back the gathering dampness in her eyes. “You promised. You promised me you’d be here.”   
  
This time, he got to his feet, pulling her into his arms without argument from her. “Felicity…come here.” She kept her hands drawn up in front of her, clutching at his shirt to anchor herself to him.   
  
“Who’s going to keep us safe if you die out there?” she murmured into his shoulder.   
  
He looped one arm around her shoulder, holding her tightly while the other rested on the side of her stomach. “I am not going to die out there,” he whispered into the side of her head.   
  
“You promised you’d do this with me,” she added.   
  
“I  _ am  _ doing this with you-”   
  
“How are we going to do this if you’re not safe too?”   
  
He pulled back from her, just enough so that he could see her face. “Felicity.”   
  
“You said you needed to keep me safe because you loved me,” she said, one tear slipping down onto her cheek   
  
He caught it with his thumb, wiping it straight away. “I will  _ always  _ keep you safe.”   
  
“But I can’t keep  _ you  _ safe,” she argued, a frustrated tone taking over as she shook her head. “I love you and I can’t keep you safe, so what do I do?” she asked.

_ I love you. _

_ I love you. _

_ I love you. _ _   
_   
“You love me,” he repeated breathlessly, his hand slackening a little as the words played over and over in his mind.  _ Finally.  _ _   
_   
She brought her hands back up to her mouth. “How can I keep you safe?”   
  
He braced his hands on her shoulders. “Felicity, you  _ love  _ me,” he murmured.   
  
“We  _ both  _ need to be safe, Oliver,” she insisted firmly. We agreed. We decided this baby was going to have a mother and a father and we can’t be that family without you,” she shook her head, emotion choking her voice. “You said we were going to do this together.”   
  
“Hey... __ hey ,” he urged, drawing her focus to him and not on the alternative. “You loving me is what keeps me safe. You being here and watching my back, that’s what keeps me alive,” he reminded her surely.    
  
“What if I can’t do that?” she asked him in a small tone.   
  
“Felicity, the day you stop having my back in the field is the day I stop going into the field,” he stated simply. “We’re a team, remember.”

She shook her head, bringing her hand over to cover his arm. “But if you’d-”

“I didn’t. I’m okay,” he reminded her, capturing her hand with his own and drawing it away.

“You’re hurt,” she sighed. 

“Felicity, this is nothing, really,” he assured her. “Let’s just go home, okay?”

She looked over at the trace her computers were running. “We can’t, we have to-”

Footsteps interrupted them, Diggle clearing his throat to ensure he wasn’t intruding. “Guys, I’m going to hang around here a while. Lyla’s decided it’s my fault her favourite shoes don’t fit her anymore, so I’m going to wait a few hours before going home,” he announced. “You can head out.”

“See, Digg’s got this,” Oliver assured her. “Let’s go and get some sleep, okay?”

 

\--

 

Except she didn’t sleep. She tried for hours to relax in the darkness, the sheets slipping audibly through the apartment every time she moved. Oliver heard every shift, every frustrated sigh, and ached to go to her. But she hadn’t asked him to, even if she had kissed him a little deeper before he’d left her that night, even if she had held him a little tighter, a little nearer. So he lay on the couch and gripped the cushion to keep himself in place.

Until her scream had him up on his feet.    
**  
** “Felicity!”   
  
“ _ Oliver _ !”

She was bolted upright, both hands clenching her stomach protectively. She was breathing hard and fast, her hands shaking as he charged into the room checking the window, his shoulders braced for any eventuality as he came to the bedside, throwing on the light and checking her.    
  
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

_ You’re mine. _

Darren’s voice was back, something blurring with the flashes of red and shouts of pain that existed within her mind. All she could think, hear, see, was Oliver in pain, Oliver not breathing, Oliver de-   
  
“You..you were bleeding,” she stammered, her hands roaming over his face, his chest, his shoulders, seeking the source of a wound she was only imagining. “Y-you were bleeding I couldn’t stop it-”   
  
“Felicity, it’s okay,” he assured her, placing his hands on her cheeks. “I’m right here.”

_ I’m right here. I’m watching you. _   
  
“I couldn’t stop it!” she choked out, tears spilling onto her cheeks. 

“Shh, just breathe, just relax.”

_ I promised I’d never leave you. _

“No, Oliver!” she protested, her hands seeking, always searching, seeing wounds that weren’t real, wiping blood that wasn’t flowing, searching for a pulse that was… 

“Shh, hon. It’s alright. I’m right here.”

Right there. Beating. Rapid. Real.

_ I’m right here. _

“Oliver…” she breathed, slowly coming back to herself with a harsh breath.

He nodded, drawing her in close to him, sheltering her within the surround of his arms. “That’s it, just breathe,” he eased, rubbing his hand up and down her back. “It was just a dream.”

“You were hurt,” she choked, burying into him. “I couldn’t stop it.”

“It was just a dream,” he whispered.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she insisted, pressing her tear-streaked face into his neck. 

“Hey, look at me,” he said, tilting her chin up just enough for his lips to brush against her own - a reminder, a promise, an assurance. “You’re not going to lose me.”

“I lost you, and you weren’t coming back,” she bit her lip, pressing her cheek to his own with an urgency he hadn’t felt from her before.

It made him pull her closer, made him pepper kisses over her cheek, over her jaw, to her lips.  _ Feel me, _ he tried to tell her.  _ I’m right here. I’m alive.  _ “Felicity, I am never going to leave you. I love you too much for that. Do you understand?”

She eased back down to the bed, lying slightly on her side but pulling him along with her. He settled over her, still sat at her side but supporting his upper body on his forearms either side of her. Like she needed him to surround her, to protect her. To hold her. “Please stay,” she whispered.

“Here?” he asked quietly.

Her hands stroked the tops of his arms. “I miss waking up with you.”

And God, did he miss it. He barely hesitated before he nodded, a small “Okay, if you’re sure,” slipping out from his lips before he was moving to the empty side of the bed. He lay on his back, welcoming her to turn into his arms, which she did easily. The curve of her stomach fit over his hip, supporting her to get more comfortable, and once she had settled, she pressed her head into the crook of his neck. 

“I miss you,” she whispered, as his arms came up to surround her, one pressed along the length of her spine while the other traced the path between her shoulder and her elbow.

“I didn’t go anywhere,” he assured her.

“You sleep on the couch now,” she pointed out.

He was careful with his answer, and she felt him swallow before the words came out. “I didn’t want to…pressure you,” he explained.

“It wasn’t pressure,” she whispered.

“Oh,” he sighed in understanding, his fingers pausing, before they continued their path. “So you want me to…”

“We love each other, right?” she checked when he trailed off, reaching her arm over him to settle her fingertips on the inside of his elbow.

“Yeah, we do,” he whispered.

She made her decision with a brush of her lips against his shoulder. “Then this is okay.”

“Okay,” he murmured, turning kiss the top of her head. He could feel her breathing settle, her breathing no longer harsh and ragged, but just when he thought she’d fallen back asleep, her tiny voice sounded through the room.

“Oliver?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he said.

“When you do these things...the touches, the kisses...is it because it’s what you want, or what you think I deserve?”

He stilled, his hand shifting so it was no longer running the length of her arm but rather holding it gently, his thumb alone drawing circles just beneath the arm of the shirt she wore - still his, always his.

“Both,” he said quietly.

“Oh.”

“Is that okay?” he asked.

He felt her nod against him, her soft hair brushing the underside of his jaw. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Do you like it?” he asked, the far more important question.

“Yeah,” she breathed out. “It’s nice.”

That tugged a smile from his lips, gentle but genuine. “Do you want me to do it more?” 

This time, he felt a matching smile of her own against his shoulder. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” he replied simply. “More touching tomorrow, more kisses. I can do that.”

The idea thrilled him. Each time she opened up a little more to him, he got to experience a little more of her, another small piece of her that brought a smile, that wanted to be happy, that wanted to be loved. She may still have been coming to terms with him showing her what she deserved, but what mattered most to him was that she  _ wanted _ to experience it. 

“Okay. And I do, you know.”

She dragged him from his thoughts, and he responded with a hum. “Do what?”

“Love you.”

Earlier when she’d said it, he’d been too shocked on adrenaline, too concerned with the tears on her cheeks to fully enjoy the sentiment. Instead of happiness, he’d felt concern, assurance, relief. Now, he felt the words warm his insides, allowing the happiness only she could provide him with to seep into the darkest parts of his mind, the ones that feared losing her, the ones that feared never having her, and as always, she shone a light on them with a soft whisper and a tired smile.

“I know,” he whispered. “I’ve known for a long time.”

“How?” she asked.

“Because I’ve loved you for a long time.”

“Oh,” she whispered.

He placed a firm kiss on her forehead, shifting his arms around her as he restarted the gentle trace of her arm. “We’re going to be okay, Felicity. I promise,” he assured her. “Do you trust me?”

“I trust you.” Her reply was instant, unmovable. 

“Get some sleep, hon.”

 

\-- **  
  
**

He didn’t need anyone to tell him what had gone wrong. He knew it. He could feel his own disappointment settling in and all he could do was try to assure himself that he’d done the right thing. Diggle and Felicity had been in the van, Roy had been at his side (despite his insistence that Felicity stay in the foundry) but he made it back to the base before any of them. He went to the corner that he used to use as living quarters when he couldn’t get into a hotel, and sat down on one of the discarded chairs with his hands rubbing at the back of his neck. 

Being down here reminded him how good he had things with Felicity. He never realised how cold it was down here, but now he slept in a warm, soft bed with a warm, soft woman who loved him, and there was nothing comfortable in comparison with that. As the last month had passed, she’d blossomed. Nothing more had happened between them, but they kissed, they touched in small ways, and most importantly - the baby grew. 

It was visible now. No matter what she wore, there was a bump at her stomach that couldn’t be denied. They were coming up on the all-important twenty-week scan - which he was very pleased that he had been invited to - and the early signs of weight gain she’d worried about were a very definitive baby bump. She wore it beautifully, and every skim of their hands over her stomach was a constant reminder - there was a baby on the way. 

He knew when the others had arrived back by the call of his name from Felicity. He used to know that she was approaching by the telltale click of her heels, but lately she’d been wearing flat shoes to the foundry as they were more comfortable. Now, she would almost have been able to sneak up on him were it not for the shuffle of her Ugg boots across the cold floor.

She approached him slowly, alone, until she was stood just out of his reach. Her newest natural pose was to fold her arms over her stomach, which completely negated the serious expression she was trying for. 

“What was that out there?” she asked him when he said nothing.   
  
“What do you mean?” he muttered.   
  
“You could have taken those guys down.” she stated simply.   
  
He lowered his head, shaking it. “I didn’t have the right position.”   
  
“When has that stopped you before?” she asked.   
  
“Since you asked me to be careful,” he pointed out, looking up at her with a tired expression.   
  
“Oliver…”   
  
He sighed, cutting her off. “I want to make sure that I am coming home every night, Felicity, because you were right,” he insisted. “It’s not just about me anymore.”   
  
She bit her lip. “I didn’t mean you had to-”   
  
His hands dropped between his legs, his forearms rested on his knees. “This isn’t about what I have to do, it’s what I  _ want  _ to do,” he said quietly.    
  
“This life isn’t about being careful, Oliver,” she took a step closer to him, lowering her hands down to her sides. “You’ve said that before. We take the risks-”   
  
“No, Felicity,  _ we  _ don’t take the risks,” he said firmly, shaking his head again as he took her hands. “Not anymore.”   
  
“It’s what we do,” she reasoned quietly.   
  
“Then we need to change how we do things,” he pointed out, “because everything else has changed.”

And then he did something he’d never done before.

He leaned outwards and planted a kiss on her stomach. It was a gentle movement, something innocent and unquestioning. He felt her inhale sharply at it - after all, he’d joined her in touching her stomach a few times, and he mostly fell asleep with his hand resting over it, but he’d never done this before. He’d never kissed her stomach, kissed the baby, essentially. It felt intimate, special. Loving.

Everything had changed. That wasn’t a lie.   
  
She cupped her hand to the back of his head when he kept his head there, resting his forehead on her stomach with a resonating sigh. “Oliver, I told you that you didn’t have to give up anything for me,” she told him, her voice tight.   
  
“And I told you that I would give up everything for you,” he murmured, spreading his hands over her growing bump.   
  
“Oliver-”   
  
He sighed again, keeping his head down because he could hear the tears in her voice - an eternal gift of hormones - and he didn’t think he could handle seeing them in that moment. “Felicity, I told you I would be here for you, that we would do this together, and I can’t do that if I’m taking uncalculated risks,” he pointed out.   
  
“There’s always risks,” she reminded him quietly.   
  
“And some can’t be taken,” he sighed. “Not anymore.”   
  
She shifted, stepping back from him just a fraction so that she could see his face. “Oliver, this is...I know what you’re saying, but this is a huge part of yourself that you’re giving up and I don’t know if that’s a responsibility that I can put on this baby,” she said, drawing her hands up to her chin.

He took her hands and pulled them back down, holding them in his own. “Felicity, I am not giving up being the Arrow. If anything, this baby gives me more of a reason to make this city a safer place,” he assured her, but he sighed as he looked up at her watery eyes. “But how can I be a part of your life, a part of this baby’s life...if I’m not here?”   
  
“Oliver…” she whispered, tightening her hands around his.   
  
“I have to make sure that I am coming home to you every time that I put on that hood. Because I made a promise to you that we were going to do this together, and that promise means a lot more to me than an adrenaline rush and a criminal,” he told her.

She bit her lip, her eyes flickering away. “You can’t say things like that.”   
  
“Felicity, I mean every word,” he assured her. 

But she brought her hand away from his to wipe at her cheek, just beneath her eyelid. “No, you can’t say things like that when I’ve got this many hormones trying to tear me apart,” she told him grumpily. “My biology can’t handle you saying sweet things right now.”   
  
His response was a smile, and a tug on her hand. “Hey, come here.”   
  
She shook her head, taking another step backwards. “If you hug me, I might cry right now,” she dissuaded him.    
  
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he insisted, tugging on her hand until she was in his arms. His head rested on her stomach again, boldly kissing the curve of her belly once more before he slid his arms around to her lower back. Her arms looped around his neck, leaning awkwardly to bury her face in the top of his hair.    
  
“I want you to come home safe every night too,” she mumbled quietly.   
  
“I know,” he assured her.   
  
“But I don’t want you giving up every part of your life for me.”   
  
His fingertips traced circles in the base of her spine. “Felicity, if giving up this life means I get a life with you, I’d throw all of this into a woodchipper.”   
  
He could feel her trying not to smile against her his hair. “Wouldn’t that be messy?” she mused.   
  
“Real messy,” he confirmed. “I’d be putting a lot of good leather to waste.”   
  
“Wouldn’t the weapons explode inside a wood chipper?” she pointed out.   
  
“Hmm, that might be a problem.”   
  
“You’re humouring me to stop me crying right now, aren’t you?”   
  
“Yeah, just a little.”

She sniffed once, then let out a sigh as she lifted her head from his. “You’re lucky it’s working,” she grumbled.

He stood up, pulling her back into his arms with his hands still pressed into her lower back. “Felicity, I meant what I said.”

“About the wood chipper?” she asked.

“That I would give all this up for a life with you,” he corrected her. 

She looked at him like the idea scared and excited her at the same time. He wondered if anyone had ever sacrificed anything for her. He wondered if she knew how easily he would sacrifice everything for her. “But we have both right now…”

“I know. And we’re doing amazing work here with the team, but I am giving you the decision right now.”

At that, her eyes widened and she shook her head. “Oliver…”

But he was certain in his decision. “If there is ever a time that this gets too dangerous, for us, for the baby...it’s  _ your  _ decision for us to get out.”

She bit her lip, still shaking. “Oliver, you can’t leave that up to me.”

“I trust my life in your hands every single night we’re here. This is no different,” he stated.

“But, Oliver-”

He leaned in and placed a soft, gentle kiss on her protesting lips. “I am trusting you to tell me when we’ve gone too far. Because it isn’t just us anymore. All the time that we can balance this, it’s fine, but this is nowhere near as important as the baby and making sure that they’re safe, and happy. What we’re doing here...being a family, that’s our priority.”

“What else would we do?” she asked hypothetically. “If we didn’t do this?”

“Settle down somewhere,” he shrugged. “Spend our days going to parent-teacher meetings and learning to cook.”

She suddenly widened her eyes. “Do we even live in a school district right now?” she asked.

He merely chuckled, kneading small circles into her lower back. “Felicity, the truth is, I have no idea what our future holds. I don’t know where we’re going to end up. But I do know what we’re going to do tonight.”

She smiled up at him. “Yeah?”

“We’re going to go home, I am going to take a shower and then we’re going to go to bed and sleep all through tomorrow.”

She laughed in response, with a small disbelieving shake of her head. “You can’t sleep that long.”

He raised a challenging eyebrow. “I think that’s an argument between us and Netflix. Come on, let’s go home.”

“Wait…” she protested, sinking towards him a little. “Don’t stop doing that yet.”

“What?” he asked.

She dropped her head back, closing her eyes. “My back’s been killing me all day…”

He kneaded his fingers a little deeper, drawing a tiny sigh of relief from her. “Why didn’t you say anything?” he frowned. 

She opened her eyes slowly at him. “Because my back hurts every day, Oliver, it’s a pregnancy thing…”

His frown merely deepened. “Is that why you haven’t been sleeping well lately?” he asked. 

Felicity sighed again. “I just feel uncomfortable all the time.”

“Then let’s go home so I can help with that.”

She protested as he hands left her back and he moved to go grab a change of clothes. “Can’t you just-”

He turned back to her, tugging on her hand so she’d follow him. “Felicity, this is something that I can actually help with. Let me help you.”

 

\-------

 

“Okay, you’re...really good with your hands and I don’t care how bad that sounds.”

Oliver chuckled from his spot behind her. All in all, it had been a relatively...normal night. There was no other way to describe it. It was normal, and  _ normal _ was a concept that Oliver held in very high esteem. They’d come home around ten o’clock as if they’d just arrived back from day jobs; kicking off shoes inside the door, hanging up coats, pouring drinks while they waited for their pizza to arrive, and after they’d devoured it they sank down into the couch with something on Netflix streaming mindlessly in the background.

Rather than appreciating the plush back cushions, they were both sat sideways, Felicity with her legs crossed underneath her so her stomach fit nicely in the cradle it created, and Oliver behind her with his legs drawn up at her sides. She curved back, not quite against him, but definitely leaning against the expert hands that kneaded and prodded at her aching spine.

“I don’t think it’s a euphemism if you’re right. I am very good with my hands,” he pointed out. 

He felt her tense slightly, her back stiffening and he could picture her biting her lip. “Oliver…”

“Stop overthinking things, Felicity,” he chided her gently.

“I can’t help it,” she sighed, dipping her head down as he moved up to pay attention to the strained muscles beneath her neck. “My brain doesn’t shut up most days.”

“Switch it off,” he told her.

She moaned. “My brain isn’t a cell phone, Oliver.”

“I don’t care. Stop thinking about things,” he told her, ducking his head to press one kiss against her left shoulder through the fabric of her shirt. “The whole point of this is to  _ relax  _ you.”

She went silent briefly. “I thought the point was to stop my back hurting?”

“I can’t do any work on these muscles if you’re tense,” he pointed out.

“I’m not tense, I’m-” He hit a knot midway down her back and she moaned, cutting off her sentence. 

“Tense,” he finished for her, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Take a breath. Relax.”

She took three deliberately deep breaths, and he peered around her to see that her eyes were closed. Her face was crease free, all signs of thought gone from her forehead as her last deepened breath sagged her shoulders. “Okay, that’s better,” she mumbled as her eyes opened again and she met his eyes before he disappeared behind her again.

“Told you,” he murmured. “Now, close your eyes, and just relax for a while.”

“How?” she whispered through a sigh.

“Think of something nice,” he coaxed her.

He wasn’t sure what thoughts crept into her mind, but she gradually sank into his hands. She didn’t speak, but she relaxed, just as she’d hoped. This might have been the first time she really relaxed in his arms without having been asleep, and it gave Oliver a moment to truly appreciate the beauty of the woman before him. She wore motherhood so beautifully, protective of her child like a lioness, beautiful in womanhood like a goddess, grace in her survival. He didn’t think she truly believed how beautiful she was. 

He brushed over a deep knot low on her back, and the resulting moan sent her arching back against him. Suddenly, she was pressed right back against him, the entire length of her spine curved to fit against his chest, his stomach, and more. Coupled with that moan, and with a glass of wine clouding his mind, his reaction was instantaneous, impulsive, and uncontrollable. She tensed with a gasp, freezing in place as she felt him harden against her lower back, his pants straining against her.

“I’m sorry,” he hissed out, gritting his teeth.

_ Slut. _

Darren’s voice slipped into her mind unbidden, and she swallowed thickly, her hands gripping to Oliver’s knees. “Is that your-?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” he choked out, leaning back from her with the balls of his hands pressing into his eyes. “Just...ignore it.”

“It’s kinda hard to ignore it.”

He hissed again, biting down on his lip to clamp down on his moan. “ _ Felicity _ .”

She pushed forward, leaning as much as she could over her stomach. Unfortunately for them both, the only parts they hadn’t managed to separate were the ones causing the discomfort in the first place. “Oh god, why did I say hard?” she chided herself.

“ _ Felicity _ .”

“I meant difficult,” she grumbled into her hands. “It’s difficult to ignore.”

He sighed, trying to get his body under control as he rubbed his hands over his face. “It was just...the moan, and the...everything, and-”

_ Whore. _

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, a pool of guilt settling in her stomach as she sucked in a breath. “I shouldn’t-”

“It’s okay,” he assured her quickly, sitting up and putting a fraction of distance between them though his hand came to her shoulder. “It’s just...it’s been a while, and you’re...well, you’re  _ you _ .”

“Oliver…” she whispered, still turned away from him.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” he insisted. “Nothing has to change. Nothing has to happen.”

_ You like it, don’t you? _

“I want it to happen.”

Her confession was so quiet he almost missed it beneath the gentle sounds coming from the television. “What?” he breathed.

“I want it,” she repeated, a conflicted need in her voice. “I just…”

_ I wouldn’t do this if you didn’t like it. _

He reached forward, pulling a pillow to cover his lap at the same time as he gathered her into it. The pillow certainly took the awkwardness out of the moment but it also allowed her to lay back comfortably, her hands framing her bump as his arms circled her shoulders. “You need time. It’s okay,” he assured her, placing a kiss to her temple. “We have plenty of time.”

“Not true, she scoffed. “I’m getting fatter by the day-”

“-Felicity-”

“-the mechanics of it alone are already far too energetic-”

“Felicity,” he said firmly, drawing of his arms to lay over her stomach, linking his fingers with hers. “It’s okay.”

He could see her biting down on her lip. “I’m not trying to hurt you-”

_ I wouldn’t do this if you didn’t enjoy it. _

“Hey, you aren’t hurting me,” he assured her. 

“But I want to-” she protested weakly. 

“I know. I want to as well,” he sighed, his lips continuously brushing over her temple and hairline. “But we don’t have to rush.”

She huffed, turning her head to the side so that it nestled against his neck. “I hate my hormones.”

“I hate them too.”

The fingers linked with his squeezed a little. “At least I’m not suffering alone.”

_ You ought to be ashamed of yourself.  _

“I’m suffering far more than you are,” he hinted, his eyes squeezing.

“Like hell you are,” she grumbled. “I’m horny all the time, Oliver,” she complained. “Do you know how that feels?”

“Yes, because you keep walking around in my shirts and it...does things to me.” he explained.

Her silence made him wonder if honesty really was the best policy. “Oh.”

“I can’t help it,” he winced. “It’s just...a thing.”

“You have a thing,” she repeated. “You have a thing for me in your shirts.”

“Apparently so,” he sighed.

“Wow...that must suck to be you right now,” she scoffed weakly, making an exaggerated look at the branded gym shirt of his she was wearing. 

He nodded. “As you could feel.”

“Yep,” she breathed out awkwardly. “I could feel that.”

He laughed softly. “It’s okay, stop worrying.”

“Does it really not bother you?” she asked curiously. “Waiting?”

Oliver frowned a little, twisting so that he could see her, only managing to touch his nose against hers. “Why would it bother me?”

_ Don’t say no to me, Felicity.  _

“It would bother most people,” she mumbled.

He brushed his fingertips over her collarbone and up her neck. “No, it would bother people who haven’t treated you well,” he corrected her. “I’m not going to pressure you into something you’re not ready for. I love you.”

_ I can’t believe how selfish you are. I make you feel good, Felicity. Don’t you want make me feel good? _

“Oliver-” she whispered.

He cut of her doubts by placing his lips down against hers. He kissed her slowly, lovingly, showing her everything she doubted was insignificant in comparison, and when they parted he lingered, sharing the same air as he whispered to her. “Felicity… I have waited two years for you. I can wait a little longer.”

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, something that didn’t help the situation in his groin. “Only a little longer?”

_ I’m not going to wait forever, Felicity. _

“As long as you need.” he assured her. **  
  
**

**\----**

“Felicity?”

The sound of Oliver’s voice made her pause in the living room. She was desperately trying to catch up on laundry, with pile after pile settled on the couch as she tried to organise it. One of the advantages of this apartment was that they had their own washer, not a communal one, which Oliver had pointed out as one of their essentials given the amount of times his laundry featured bloodstains. But she hadn’t quite realised how much laundry a wannabe-businessman / vigilante / avid runner generated, and with her stomach swiftly growing she was suddenly far more limited to what she could wear. 

“I’m in the living room,” she called out as she heard the door close. 

“I talked to John, we’re going to take a night off. Roy needs to take care of some things so I figured we could…”

When he trailed off, his last few words weak before they became silence, she stopped what she was folding and looked up. He stood in the doorway, one hand gripping the doorframe far too tightly, enough that she could see the whites of his knuckles, while his other hand was frozen in an attempt to remove his tie. His forearm was bulging with the effort of holding still, his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow and yep - that was an attractive look. Hello hormones. 

“We could what?” she asked.

“Uhh…” he choked out, casting his dark eyes across her form.

She glanced down following his gaze. She wore only his favourite sports jersey. She couldn’t have said which team, or which sport it was for, only that it was a rich blue colour which fell down to her mid-thigh. It was the first time she’d worn it, despite her fondness for his shirts, but the way his eyes darkened, and the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips, she was reminded of the evening last week when he’d told her that he had a thing for her wearing his shirts.

“Oh. The shirt,” she mumbled, biting her lip as she waved her hand to try and take the tension off the moment. She picked up another one of his shirts, starting to fold it. “I’m sorry. I know it’s your favourite, but I had to do laundry and-”

“Felicity-” he choked again.

“-and you know actually hardly any of my clothes fit me right now, but Lyla’s not taking me shopping until tomorrow to get any maternity clothes, and I just needed something to wear while the laundry finished-”

“Felicity-”

“-but I know it’s your favourite shirt, I just...needed something and--”

“I should go,” he blurted out.

She frowned, concern slipping into her features as she looked back up at him. “What?”

“I should...go,” he forced out, his words bursting out as if they were burning him. “I need to go...for a run.”

She paused, holding the shirt in front of her loosely. “But you just got home.”

“I need to go, Felicity,” he insisted, shaking his head.

He went to turn away, but she put the shirt back down on the pile she’d got it from, and took a few steps towards him. He groaned as she did, and she caught the way he looked at her legs with an expression she’d never seen him wear before. 

“I’m sorry, are you mad?” she asked nervously. “Because the other night you said it was okay--”

He shook his head, his shoulders tightening as he drew in a deep breath. “Felicity, I...I want you so badly right now I can’t think about anything else.”

_ You don’t expect me to take care of this myself, do you? _

“Oh,” she whispered, fully aware of Darren’s taunts in the back of her mind. She hated how he chose his moments to torture her, but today his voice was pushed aside in favour of something stronger - Oliver’s husky tone choking out that he wanted her. Suddenly, Darren’s words meant nothing. She forced herself to push him aside in favour of everything that Oliver had been trying to make her see for months - that she was worth something. That she was needed, that she was wanted, that she deserved better.

That she deserved to be loved.

“So I need to go, because I don’t want you to do anything you’re not ready for,” Oliver muttered, going to turn, but watching her face first, as if  he kn ew that he needed the distance but he didn’t want her to be upset by it. 

“Oh,” she repeated, the words ‘ _ don’t go _ ’ stuck on her tongue. 

“I’ll...come back later,” he said, clearing his throat as he finally turned away from her. 

“Oliver.”

She wasn’t even aware that she’d said his name, only that it was the only thing in her mind. Oliver. Oliver.  _ Oliver.  _ She waited for him to turn before she approached him, fully aware of the raging storm of  _ need _ in his gaze as he gazed at her. 

“What?” he asked her.

And she kissed him.

Her actions weren’t her own, all she could see in that moment was him, and she didn’t realise that she was kissing him until she felt him turning her, her back against the wall the same way all their goodnight kisses ended, but this time, there was a severe lack of control between them both.

“Felicity-” he groaned out, separating them with a questioning look. She knew he was keeping a firm grip on his control, but she no longer craved it.

He wanted her. He  _ wanted _ her. And she wanted very much to be wanted by the man who loved her.

“Kiss me, Oliver,” she whispered against his lips, running her hands over his forearms. 

“God, Felicity-” he choked out, shifting his hips away from her.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, again with a sure nod. “I want you to.”

Her words sent a thrill through them both, the assurance they both needed that this was a step they could take. Her back was against the wall again, only this time his strong frame was holding her up, pressing their bodies together despite the curve of her bump between them. They moved between kisses, each curl of their tongues backing them towards the only armchair not covered in laundry, and he sank down into it, pulling her down into his lap. For a while they contented themselves with the kiss, but his hands soon started toying with the hemline of the shirt, lifting it slowly with a question that choked past his lips. “Can I…”

“No!” she cried out.

_ You’re bad .You’re worthless. You’re ugly.  _

Instantly, he pulled his head back, watching her carefully. “I’m sorry-” he muttered, bringing his hands up to her face as if he’d crossed a line, but she quickly brought his hands back down to her hips again. She shook her head, pressing her hands over his. 

“No, don’t stop just...don’t take it off, please,” she pleaded. “Leave it on.”

An expression caught between arousal and concern flickered over him. “Felicity…”

She bit her lip, her eyes slamming closed. “I just don’t want to be…”

_ Naked. Bare. Exposed.  _

_ Unattractive. Fat. Changed. _

_ Not what you expected. Not what you wanted. _

“It’s okay,” he assured her, placing a soft kiss to each of her closed eyelids. “It’s very okay.”

“Oliver-” she started, cutting off when his gentle kiss moved to her lips. 

“You’ll  _ always  _ be beautiful to me, Felicity…”

Felicity moaned, his words sending a jolt of electricity from her spine to the burning need between her legs. It had been so long since she’d felt it, since she’d  _ wanted  _ it, but while she was fully aware of her hormones controlling her body she knew this wasn’t just a biological need. This need for Oliver was historic, built into her bones, and the way her fingertips pressed into the muscles of his upper arms was muscle memory built from two years of watching him, of needing him, of taking thoughts of him to bed and hoping for  _ one day. _

“It’s okay,” he murmured, turning his attention back to her throat as his digits abandoned the hemline of the shirt and moved up her sides. Every time he’d touched her waist he’d been cautious, gentle, almost hesitant as if he were waiting for her to jump away from him, but this time he was determined, and she could feel the heat of his palms even through the fabric. 

Her head rolled back as she felt him knead her breasts at last, so expertly that she was sure he would be able to feel her heart hammering through the engorged flesh. Her increased cup size had been a bigger adjustment than the swell of her stomach, not that she was particularly small in that area before, but the weight and sensitivity of them was certainly different. His palms grazed over her nipples the material between them adding a friction she hadn’t been considering as her breath caught in her throat just as his lips closed over her pulse. 

She squirmed under his ministrations, overwhelmed by the sensation of pleasure that shot through her. Though she was hesitant to let thoughts of Darren into her mind, it had never been like this with him, not that she could remember. Too many good days were darkened by the bad, but from her spot in Oliver’s lap, all that was dark was his lust-filled eyes as he watched her. Oh, and he watched her. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. His hands closed around the flesh of her breast, and with a more purposeful action he circled his thumbs over her nipples, pinching the hardened nubs with the same unconscious action he performed when he craved a bow between his hands.

The rush of warmth between her thighs had her hips rocking without her command, landing her firmly in his lap. Her bump wasn’t so big that it didn’t stop her pressing flush against his groin, and she could feel the hardened bulge that ground against her instinctively. 

If she’d ever doubted that he might want her, the thought went out of the window as his groan of want reverberated through her throat. 

She rocked against him, testing the action that rubbed her underwear over his zipper. It made her gasp, made her long for more, and her next groan caught in the back of her throat. Oliver’s lips tore away from her neck, moving up across her pulse and over her jaw. His hands moved down to her hips, aiding the subtle rocking to a more rhythmic movement. But it wasn’t enough. Her body was raging with need, with desire...

“I want you to-” she started, but his hips jerked beneath her and the words were lost to her as she pressed back down onto him. 

“Talk to me,” he panted, and she bit down on her lip, almost fearful of what longing words might burst out. In her silence, he brought his hand up to her face, cupping her cheek as she leaned into his palm. “Felicity...talk to me,” he urged.

He’d stop this all with a single word. She knew that. She’d only have to say one word and he’d stop, he’d release his hand from her hip, he’d excuse himself to allow them both to calm down, and they’d go about their evening. 

But she didn’t want him to stop.

“I want you to touch me,” she whispered.

He twitched between her legs, a small strangled sound stirring in the back of his throat. “Oh god, Felicity…” he murmured, his hands tightening around her in pure need as his hips rocked up against her. 

Her hands came up to the back of his neck, tangling in at the base of his skull as she whispered breathlessly. “Please…” she begged, trying to get closer to him trying to feel more of him against her until he was pushing her hips back to create a gap between them.

“Yes…” he obliged, despite her frustration when he separated their hips. He closed his lips over hers, softly at first, but to his delighted surprise it was her who deepened the kiss, entwining their tongues with a fresh new urgency for one another, the sweet taste of him filling her mouth and making her feel wanted, loved, safe. 

He only indulged the kiss for a moment before his hands moved down to her knees, not pulling his lips away from hers as his slid them up her thighs. Her breath hitched with each inch, but she didn’t stop him, enjoying the touch of his calloused fingers against her sensitive skin. But then his fingers slid beneath her soaked underwear and all thoughts of hesitance went out of the window. She whimpered as he stroked through her folds - either the pregnancy was making every sensation more heightened, or it really had been far too long since she’d been touched in a good way. She ground down against his fingers, seeking more as their kiss became a little faster, a little rougher, a little more desperate, and for the first time in too long, there was no voice in the back of her mind. There was only Oliver’s moans as he felt how wet she was.

The lustful sounds leaving his throat only made her want more, her hands tightening in his short hair, her fingernails grazing his scalp as he pushed a finger inside her. Her sob of pleasure into the kiss made him pull back abruptly, checking that she was still with him, that he hadn’t crossed a line but she just shifted against his hand, trying to increase the friction. Oliver picked up on her hints and withdrew his finger, sliding two back into her and drawing a needy cry from deep in her throat.

With his fingers buried within her, she was far too breathless to continue the kiss but that didn’t stop his lips ravaging any exposed skin he could reach. Every time he pulled back for breath, his eyes met hers with a matched longing, and he kept his gaze on her as he curled his fingers within her, brushing against a fleshy, sensitive spot that had her keening in his lap while his thumb bumped against her clit. She jolted, her eyes wide as he whispered his encouragements to her. She couldn’t focus on his words, not when there was white-hot pleasure coursing through her body.

Rather than withdraw his fingers and thrust them into her again, he continued to stroke that pleasured spot within her, his thumb circling her clit. It sent sparks of arousal through her, and a tight coil started to built within her, a pressure low in her stomach that made her fully aware of the dampness pooling in his palm. She moaned, long and low, fisting her hand into his hair for a better grip while her other steadied herself against his shoulder. 

Her orgasm took her by surprise, shattering through the sweet build up of pleasure. She clamped down around his fingers, spasming around him but to her whine of displeasure he pulled his fingers away from her. She’d barely hit her peak before there was an emptiness, but then his hands were back at her hips, pulling her flush against him as he moved her rocking hips over his again. He thrust the painfully hard outline of his length against her, and while she knew he was seeking an end to his own pleasure it only served to prolong hers, and just as her high was fading the consistent rubbing against her clit with the fabric that separated them was sparking it again, dragging another cry from her. Her arms flew around his shoulders, the pleasure massing to a point where she could only let him move her as he needed, let him thrust against her until he was grunting against her throat, his body pulsing between her thighs and a damp warmth was spreading across the fabric between them. 

And then there were only hot breaths, panting against one another’s throats. There was nothing but the dull throb of a pleasured aftermath, bodies slowly rocking until they came to a joined stop, damp fabric sealing their groins together. She wasn’t sure how long they stayed there for, but when she lifted her head, her hands grazing back to cup his cheeks and kiss him again as his hands lifted to her hips beneath the shirt and traced circles against the base of her bump. 

“Are you okay?” he breathed against her lips, his eyes closed. 

She nodded, brushing for one more, two more kisses. “So okay.”

“So that was…”

She cut him off with a gentle laugh. “You weren’t kidding about being good with your hands.”

He opened his eyes to her. They were still dark, dilated with the pleasure they’d given to each other. His lips, wet from hers, placed against her cheek, her jaw, the tip of her nose, “God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

Her hesitance showed when she glanced between them, her hand tracing over the buttons of his shirt, but he captured her hand with one of his, bringing it up so he could place a kiss to the centre of her palm. “Felicity… I love you,” he assured her. “One step at a time.”

She nodded, a small smile crossing her lips. “I should go...clean up…” she muttered awkwardly.

He laughed. “As much as I agree, I think I need to call first shower.”

“Oh,” she muttered, before she cast her gaze down alongside his to the very obvious mess on the front of his pants. “ _ Oh _ !”

“Sorry,” he choked out.

“No, it’s fine,” she stumbled the words out. “It’s...my fault I guess.”

He breathed out her name, barely a whisper on his lips as he placed both hands back on her thighs, tracing up them slowly. “Felicity…”

“Yeah?” she asked, her breath already shortening again. 

“Does this mean I can touch you like this from now on?” he asked, his smile both innocent and deviant at the same time. 

She nodded, clamping her teeth down over her lower lip again. “I’d be very frustrated if you didn’t.”

“And it’s not just the hormones?” he checked, his lips a breath away from hers again.

“Oliver, it’s not just the hormones,” she assured him.

“Good,” he declared, slowly dancing his lips over hers. “Because I could get very addicted to seeing you like that.”

His lips moved back to her jaw, edging down to her pulse in a way that had her breath catching and her hands tightening. “Mmm, that’s nice,” she whispered.

“Yeah?” he hummed against her, sending a vibration through her throat.

“Yeah, really nice,” she nodded. 

He pulled his lips away. “Well, I’m going to go take a shower...and while you’re showering I’ll call in some dinner, and you and I are going to have a very,  _ very  _ quiet night in and discover some other nice things….how does that sound?” he asked her.

There was only one answer to that, wasn’t there?

“It sounds perfect.”

 

**\-----** **  
  
**

After that, everything changed.

It changed as if they’d finally come together after years of tension separating them, and she supposed really, they had. One thing she was very certain of was that she was all in with Oliver Queen. She loved him. She wanted him. She was about to share the biggest part of her life with him. Yes, she had reservations, but none of them involved any doubt that he wanted her. She could see it in his eyes. He had three expressions that she’d noted down.

_ I love you  _ he told her as he handed her the one deeply coveted cup of coffee per day she allowed herself, as she brushed her teeth beside him, as she lay down next to him and pulled his arm around her.

_ You’re my family  _ he told her as she folded the baby clothes they’d brought last week, as she stroked her bump, as he saw her gazing at her new body in her maternity dress that did look remarkably good on her, and he came up behind her and kissed her neck as he told her that they both looked beautiful.

_ I made you come and I want to do it over and over again  _ was perhaps her favourite look of his, the newest one. Allowing him to touch her had opened up a new freedom to explore between them, one that meant he didn’t clear his throat and leave the room when she did her pregnancy yoga, one that meant he unconsciously licked his lips when she passed him in a towel after showering in the morning, one that meant they very rarely sat down on the couch without his fingers buried inside her.

Sexual exploration with Oliver Queen was crazed, was heady, was a need she hadn’t realised she’d had. He made her crave the reactions of her own body, made her hum with excitement, made her want more, so much more, after years of being made to believe she was only worth what she could do for a man. But it was her pleasure that gave Oliver pleasure, though she remembered the one whimpered sound in the back of his throat the first time she’d touched him in return, one that she was starting to enjoy far too much.

Her reservations weren’t because she was afraid, she was insecure. Her body was almost unrecognisable now, as if she were a vessel more than a woman, and she hardly knew how it functioned. She knew her insecurities were unwarranted, that Oliver wanted her, that he thought she was beautiful, but she needed to feel it herself before she really went to bed with him. She’d had to adjust to far too much in this pregnancy, but she was carrying extra, stretched in places she didn’t even imagine she’d stretched, wobbling in ways she hadn’t before, and Oliver… had given her confidence in herself that she had never imagined. He’d given her strength, courage, and she wanted to feel that confidence when she fully slept with him, and she didn’t want their lovemaking filled with assurances when it could be filled with love. 

But when she witnessed him doing pull-ups in the living room doorway on the bar he’d fitted, she felt incredibly impatient with herself. So she did the only logical thing.

She threw her legs on the arm of her chair so that she was fully facing him, and she ate her cereal.

“Morning,” he grunted as he heaved himself up.

“Good morning,” she chirped back, her eyes fixated on him.

“What are you doing?” he asked, raising an eyebrow between raises.

“Eating breakfast,” she replied innocently.

“You’re staring,” he stated simply. 

She nodded, giving him an exaggerated look up and down. “I am.”

He dropped down to the carpet, reaching for the small hand-towel he’d placed on the floor and wiping it around his neck. “I hate to interrupt your breakfast viewing, but I’m all done here,” he announced.

“No, you’re not.”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “Excuse me?” he laughed.

“My hormones would like you to continue,” she stated simply, taking another bite of her cereal and releasing the spoon with a small ‘pop’.

“You want me to double my workout because of your hormones?” he asked.

She pointed her spoon at him, her voice calm. “Oliver, my hormones have been very kind to you so far,” she reminded him. “Lots of pregnant women can be very mean to their boyfriends. I have been nothing but pleasant so far, because we have given in to the hormones every desire, whether it’s cold pizza for breakfast or tacos at 3am. Do you really want to risk making the hormones angry?” she asked with a dramatic wince.

But he was grinning at her stupidly, approaching her chair and dropping his hands either side of her knees, leaning over her. “You just called me your boyfriend,” he pointed out through his grin.

She pulled her lips between her teeth, trying not to match his grin, but his excitement was contagious, as were his smiles. The more moments they had like this, the more she convinced herself that this wasn’t just want she deserved, but what she already had. “I’ll call you my ex-boyfriend if you don’t carry on sweating for me,” she threatened lightly.

He leaned in close, just a breath away from her lips. “I could always continue sweating on top of you,” he murmured.

Her spoon fell in the bowl with a small splash, her entire body flushing with  _ want  _ in a way that had her coughing and trying to move around him to get up. “Erm, let me just…”

“Felicity?” he questioned, as he pulled her up when she extended her arm. He watched her as if he may have crossed a line.

“Nothing,” she squeaked disappearing out of sight.

“You’re getting horny hormones, aren’t you?”

She stuck her head around the doorframe, glaring at him. “Don’t talk about horny hormones.”

He just grinned, approaching her slowly. “You really want me right now.”

“Go away,” she mumbled half-heartedly as his hands came up to her hips, stroking them beneath her shirt. 

“You said we should give the hormones whatever they want,” he reminded her.

She groaned, dipping her head to his shoulder. “Well, the hormones want you inside of me,” she muttered.

“I want me inside of you,” he agreed, his voice coated with the kind of arousal that she knew would leave her panting against the doorframe she leaned against, especially with his fingers creeping further down towards the waistband of her pants.

“Oliver…” she murmured, her breathy whisper guaranteeing what they both wanted, until they were interrupted just short of satisfaction by a frantic string of text messages.

“Who is that?” she asked, as Oliver reluctantly pulled away from her and moved to his phone. 

“Diggle,” he sighed. “He says he needs us in the foundry.”

Her head rolled back against the doorframe. “Of course he does,” she groaned in frustration.

They abandoned their far more pleasured activities for the morning, and didn’t speak about them again until they arrived at the foundry and Felicity put her hand over his to stop him getting out of the car. 

“Oliver?”

“Yeah?” he turned back to her.

She took a breath. “It’s not just the hormones that want you,” she told him.

“No?” he questioned, turning his palm over in her grasp and linking their fingers together.

She shook her head, steadying herself for her next suggestion. “Maybe tonight we can...have some time for us.”

His mouth went dry, though he unconsciously licked his lips. “Are you sure?” he breathed out.

Felicity nodded surely. “Yeah, I am.”

“Felicity…” he drew her in for a kiss. This kiss was searching, it was an assurance, and it was a touch of  _ later _ that would have her waiting out for the evening to end and for them to get home just the two of them. By the time they parted, she was breathless, and he was skating his lips over her cheek, up to her ear. 

“So...tonight?” she whispered.

He let out a small sound that might have been a moan, might have been a growl. “Tonight.”


	6. Chapter 6

He hadn’t been thinking when it happened. That was his only excuse. No. No, he didn’t get to make excuses for it. He’d been too in the zone and he’d snapped at her. No, not snapped… he’d shouted at her. She’d been too slow on the directions and he’d… Any other time, before he knew what he’d done, he might have missed it - when she was trying to hide it from him, he definitely would have missed it, but now? Now that he knew her as well as he did? He heard it straight away.

A gasp. A hitch in her breath.

He’d scared her.

He’d never finished a job quickly enough. She was silent the whole time, her silence so intense that he feared she’d shut off her comms unit entirely, and that made him worry. Shades of peace with Felicity did not consist of silence, and the absence of sound was an absence of her light. 

It made him feel sick.

He rushed into the foundry, barely pausing to remove his mask and push back his hood before he found her, standing in front of her computer.

“Felicity-”

She turned, her eyes wide with her hands clasped before her mouth...and she took a step back from him.

His heart sank. “Felicity, I’m sor-”

“I’m sorry,” she squeaked out, betraying the fear in her voice.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he told her, shaking his head as he stepped towards her, his palms open as he bared himself before her.  _ Don’t be afraid,  _ he tried to tell her.  _ Please, don’t be scared of me.  _

“I didn’t mean to make you mad-”

“Felicity,” he whispered, taking one more step towards her. She flinched, and he stopped, taking his cues from her. He wouldn’t crowd her, wouldn’t frighten her further. He had thought it was painful to see her in that state before, but to see her tremble because of his actions, his words… it made him nauseated. He’d never do to her what that monster had done. He knew that. She knew that. But it just took one moment, one slip, and five steps back.

“I swear, I won’t do it again,” she shook her head, her voice soft but pained. “Please, just...don’t go.”

He frowned. “Felicity, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I won’t do it again, I’ll do better next time,” she babbled, her breath starting to come in short pants. He knew she needed to calm down, the warning signs of a panic he’d usually only seen in the middle of the night from her taking hold, and he opened his arms a little.

“Felicity, I’m not mad at you,” he told her gently. “I’m not mad.”

She kept her eyes on him, watery and wide as she bit at her lip. “I’m sorry-”

“You did nothing wrong,” he assured her. “Come here.”

But she didn’t move. She just whispered her apologies under her breath.

“Felicity, hon, you need to breathe,” he whispered. “Everything’s okay. I promise. You don’t have to apologise to me. I’m sorry I shouted at you.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated again, sucking in a deep breath.

What happened next happened in slow motion.

Her hand flew to her stomach, and her next breath was a ragged intake of air that had him flying to her side. Personal boundaries were forgotten, and the moment that his hand touched her stomach and his other hand at her back, she was grasping at his jacket, clinging to him as her eyes arrived to his with a whole new level of fear.

Something was very wrong.

“Roy!” he shouted over her shoulder. He didn’t even wait for him to appear fully before he was shouting orders out. “Get my change of clothes, find my car keys. Digg, call ahead to the hospital, tell them we’re bringing her in.”

“Oliver,” she gasped out, clutching at him tighter with another wave of pain until he was guiding her back to her chair.

“I’m right here,” he assured her, taking her hand and placing a hard kiss on it as he knelt before her. “I’m going to get out of the suit, and then we’re going straight to the hospital.”

“It really hurts,” she whined out, biting down on her lip.

“It’s going to be okay,” he assured her, glancing aside as Roy appeared with his things. “Just stay here, I want you to hold Roy’s hand, and I’ll be right back, okay?”

“What if something’s wrong?” she swallowed. “What if it’s hurt? What if he--?”

“Felicity,” he sat up placing his hands on her cheeks and fixing her gaze on him. “Eyes on me, baby. Everything’s going to be fine. I promise you,”

He wasn’t sure he could promise that. They’d read enough books now, read enough articles about complications under the guise of being prepared, but really they had been fearing this moment - the random pain, the show of blood, the cramping that didn’t belong. 

When he released her to get changed out of his leathers, there was a pain in his stomach as well. Familiar, gripping, unrelenting. He’d felt it the night his mother died. The moment someone he loved unconditionally with every part of his being was torn away from life, and he hadn’t been able to save them. 

He wasn’t sure either of them could handle that happening tonight.

\----- **  
  
**

“Hello again, Miss Smoak, I didn’t think we’d be seeing you until next week.”

The sounds just beyond the door overwhelmed them the moment that the doctor stepped inside. It wasn’t surprising - despite being admitted they were still unnervingly close to the emergency room due to a shortage of space, and Oliver had recognised the signs of a motorcycle accident as they were shown to their initial bay earlier. A nurse had already made an assessment before sending for Felicity’s regular OBGYN, who was thankfully on duty and just finishing with another patient. 

Oliver had met her once, at a checkup appointment a month prior. She’d given them far more information than they could digest, and was always insistent that if Felicity had any problems or questions, she should call her. Oliver had looked her up after the first appointment - she was a specialist OBGYN for women who had recently left, or were still involved in, situations of domestic abuse. 

When she closed the door behind her, the room plunged into a silence again. Felicity straightened from where she had been curled slightly on her side facing Oliver, but she didn’t release his hand. “I had some pains tonight, I-”

She broke off, but Oliver placed a reassuring kiss on her forehead. She couldn’t exactly explain too much without revealing some secrets that were best not confessed in a hospital. The doctor, however, responded with a smile. 

“Well to save you coming in again next week, I’ve got everything together for us to sign off your twenty-week appointment, so why don’t we take a look,” she chirped.

Oh, that was another thing. She was far too happy. They’d talked about it in length after their last appointment, because she was so happy that they were starting to suspect she was borderline suspicious, but given how often they were starting to find themselves smiling, it was also possible that it was the prolonged proximity to babies that was making her so happy. Apparently, babies made people into chirpy, happy people. 

“Okay,” Felicity sighed, still anxiety-ridden as she allowed the doctor to place her feet in the stirrups.

The doctor flashed a smile in Oliver’s direction before looking to Felicity. “Is this baby’s father?”

She gripped his hand a little tighter before she answered. “Yes.”

Something warm stirred in his stomach. He had felt that a lot lately, usually whenever she referenced him being the father of her child. It only made him wish it were biologically so. As much as he was determined to treat this child as his own, it did make him wonder how it would feel to know that it was a part of them both growing within her, to know that it was an act of their love that had created this swell of life within her stomach. He wondered how that would feel, if merely being involved in the end process was opening up his life in ways he’d never imagined.

He held out his free hand to the doctor with a smile. “I’m Oliver. Oliver Queen.”

She returned the handshake with another beaming grin. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Queen.” She took a pair of gloves, snapping them on quickly and expertly before she rolled her stool between Felicity’s parted legs and settled down between them. “Okay, Felicity, can you explain how the pain started,” she asked clearly getting straight to business between the paper sheet judging from the way that Felicity gasped and shut her eyes. 

“We were arguing, and it just started,” she explained, tightening her grip on Oliver with a discomforted expression. He was relieved if only that her expression wasn’t as pained as it had been the first night in the hospital. “It felt like it was getting really tight, like really strong cramps.”

“Okay, has there been any bleeding since the pain started?” the doctor asked without looking up.

“No.”

“Well, that’s good news. I think what you experienced was a contraction.”

Felicity’s eyes shot open, meeting Oliver’s to find a similar look of panic there. Their glances directed downwards though they could only see the sheet covering Felicity’s legs. “What? No!” Felicity squeaked. “No, it’s too soon for that.”

“It is, but it’s not uncommon for them to present in times of stress,” the doctor explained so casually. “Has the pain stopped now?”

“Mostly. I just feel a bit crampy now,” she muttered.

“Okay, well everything looks good down here,” the doctor announced, reappearing and encouraging Felicity to put her legs back down. She was smiling, so despite their combined nervousness and sheer panic that something had been wrong - because surely pain always meant that something was wrong - they did relax a little at a confirmation that nothing seemed to be wrong. “So why don’t we get the ultrasound and take a look inside,” she suggested. At their relieved nods, she stood up. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

The moment the door was closed behind her, they both let out a heavy sighs, moving into each other’s space Oliver leaned his forehead against hers. They took a moment just to breathe, for the first time since she had felt the pain, and he pulled back enough to kiss her forehead before he sank back into his former position. 

“You hear that? Everything’s fine,” he assured her softly.

“Thank God,” she sighed.

In the silence that settled after, he ran his thumb across the inside of her palm. “Felicity, I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s okay-”

“No, really,” he insisted. “I was frustrated, I had no right to take that out on you.”

Her eyes closed for a moment, lowering even when they re-opened to him. “I’ve taken a lot of frustration out on you lately,” she reasoned.

“I’m sorry I caused this,” he told her.

“Pregnancy caused this,” she pointed out. He said nothing, his eyes closing until one of her hands came up to his cheek. The moment she’d clutched her stomach in pain, he’d felt the far-too-familiar guilt seep back into his veins, the idea that he’d caused her pain with his presence taking him back to that day in the office. Taking him back to ‘because of the life that I lead’ and all the reasons he’d first pushed her away. He leaned into her touch before he opened his eyes again. “Oliver...it’s okay,” she whispered, before adding quietly; I’m sorry for the things I said.”

He frowned “You didn’t say-”

The shake of her head interrupted him, her confession soft but heartbroken. “I spoke to you like I’d have spoken to him and I...I never wanted to do that.”

His hand left hers, coming up to clasp the back of her neck. He did this a lot, not because of the possessive hold, but because from that point his thumb could stroke the side of her throat, and he selfishly loved the way she’d melt into him under that touch. “Felicity…”

“This is what we’re supposed to do, right?” she checked, her voice tight. “Fight, and then say sorry and still be okay?”

“Of course we’re still okay,” he whispered, touching his lips to hers. “Felicity...we’re going to fight. I’m going to get mad at you, and you’re going to get mad at me, just like we have done a hundred times in the last two years,” he reminded her, bringing a smile to both their faces. “But that doesn’t mean we stop loving each other.”

“Good,” she nodded slightly, bringing her hand up to cover his, linking her fingers through his the best she could, “because I’m not doing this without you.”

He nudged her a little. “Hey, think of the good news...we get to see the baby again soon.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, her nervous smile deepening. “It’ll look so different this time.”

Oliver felt a stirring of warmth return to his stomach. “I just realised...this the first time we’ll see it together,” he told her in a murmur. “The first time you didn’t look, the second time you were on your own...now we get to see it together. Are you excited?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, her eyes misting over. “Are you?”

“I can’t wait,” he grinned broadly. “I’ll get a new picture for my wallet.”

Before she could do any more than choke out a soft laugh, the door opened again and the doctor returned. A nurse assisted to bring in the equipment and then left them alone again. “Okay, let’s get set up,” she announced brightly, lifting Felicity’s gown with the sheet keeping everything beneath her neat bump covered. “First, let’s take a listen to the heartbeat.”

The sound of fast whooshing that they’d heard before overwhelmed the room, but this time they could enjoy it. This time, Felicity wasn’t in pain, and she wasn’t frightened. This time they were just finding out how the baby was growing. “Wow,” she whispered. 

“See, nothing at all to worry about,” the doctor assured her. “That is one strong, healthy baby. So if we get this turned on…”

The screen came into life, and the image of the fetus came into view. It was a far cry different from the photograph they’d been looking at since the first scan, so much so that it made them both release a gasped breath. 

“Oh my god…” Oliver muttered, the first to find his voice.

“There’s your baby,” the doctor told them gently.

Felicity swallowed audibly, the two of them fixated on the screen and the mass in the centre of it. “It doesn’t look like a bean any more,” she noted quietly.

“It looks like a real little baby now,” Oliver added, taking in the easily distinguishable shapes of the head, the chin, the nose...even the fingers and toes could be seen now. 

“Wait, was that?” Felicity asked when the screen glimmered, leaning forwards to see better.

Oliver laughed slightly. “It’s arm’s moving!”

“If we move a little… there, you can see it,” the doctor said, zooming in the screen slightly and indicating what she was showing them. “The baby’s sucking it’s thumb.”

She couldn’t help it, a choked sob burst out and she brought her free hand up to cover her mouth. When Oliver glanced towards her, he could see the tears on her cheeks, the sheer relief and wonder written all over her face as she kept her attention on this little image of her baby. “Felicity…” he whispered, just to check that this was a good reaction.

“It’s sucking it’s thumb, Oliver,” she cried gently, pointing his attention back to the screen.

His lips found the side of her head before he looked back to the doctor. “Can we get a picture of that, please?” he asked quietly.

She nodded, saving the image before she pointed out a slight curve on the face. “And it looks like baby has your nose, Mom,” she said brightly, and Oliver felt a weight off his shoulders that he hadn’t been sure he’d been carrying. Felicity had been worried that her baby would take on the appearance of its biological father, but it seemed that a lot of the facial shape, at this point was the little Felicity they’d been hoping for. “Everything looks right on track for twenty weeks. You’re going to be seeing a lot more noticeable growth from here on out. Have you felt any movement yet?”

Felicity murmured her response.“No, I don’t think so.”

“You’ll know when you do.”

Oliver, however, frowned. “Should we have felt movement yet?” he asked.

“It’s no reason to be alarmed if you haven’t,” the doctor assured them. “It usually occurs around this time. Have you decided whether or not you want to know the sex?”

“You can see that?” Felicity asked, tearing her eyes away from the screen.

“The baby’s in a good position, if you want to know,” the doctor offered.

She looked to Oliver, who gave her a one-shouldered shrug. They hadn’t talked about it. Despite their so far limited discussions on what would happen if it were either a boy or a girl, they hadn’t discussed finding out.

“It’s your call, Felicity,” he told her.

She bit her lip as she looked back to the screen. 

“I...don’t want to know,” she decided quietly.

“Are you sure?” he asked her. 

“Yeah…” she said with a decisive nod, her voice firmer as she turned back to him. “I never liked mysteries, but...lately all my surprises have been good ones, so hopefully this will be one too.”

His smile was as watery as hers, and his answer was a simple nod. They kept their gaze on each other as the doctor finished her notes, so that the gender wouldn’t be spoiled for them, and remained silent.

The sound of the heartbeat was a constant. 

“Okay, I’m going to go and file this paperwork, and give you two a minute,” the doctor told them, stepping out for a moment again. 

The moment she was gone, Oliver pulled away from Felicity, searching inside his pocket for his phone and searching through the apps as he approached the screen. Though it no longer showed an active image, only the frozen photograph they’d asked for, he set the device in front of the unit and came back to her side.

“Oliver, what are you doing?” she asked with a small frown.

“Recording this sound,” he told her.

“Why?”

“It’s the baby’s heartbeat. I love this sound,” he murmured quietly through his smile. 

“You’re recording it?” she asked again, matching his smile.

“Felicity,” he breathed out. “I don’t know about you, but I want to listen to this all night.”

She swallowed thickly, her eyes dangerously filled with tears as she took his hand, toying with his fingers as she looked down at it. “Oliver…”

“Are you okay?” he asked with a frown.

“How did I get this lucky?” she choked out. “You, the baby...how have I got this lucky?”

His response was a smile, the one that made her melt, that made all her defences fall away. “Because you deserve it.”

Her gaze wavered slightly as she bit out a laugh. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s true,” he whispered, wiggling his fingers through hers.

She brought his hand up to her face, uncurling his fingers and placing a firm kiss on the centre of his palm. “I was so worried something was wrong,” she sighed heavily, pushing her hair back after.

“So was I...terrified,” he agreed, keeping his hand by her face and tracing his thumb over her lower lip.

“Being a parent is terrifying,” she grumbled tiredly.

“Baby’s okay,” he assured her, placing his hand down on her stomach. “Baby’s fine, see, it’s right here. Did you know they could suck their thumbs?” he added with a tone of amazement.

She smiled again, shaking her head. “I read it online but I never thought…”

He looked over to the monitor again and let out a burst of laughter. “It’s incredible.”

Felicity moved her hand down, threading her fingers through his over the curve of her stomach. “You know, they say it can respond to noises,” she hinted, amused at the idea of the baby being able to hear their voices as they whispered over it. Knowing Oliver, it’d end in a night of the two of them talking to the baby.

“It’s all getting real,” he breathed out.

The door opened again after a short knock, and the doctor was back again. “Okay, Felicity. Just a few more things to run through and then you can go home.”

**\-----**

 

Felicity didn’t wake up until long into the following morning, given that they’d arrived back from the hospital just after three o’clock in the morning. Exhaustion had thrown her off entirely after the assurance that the baby was safe and growing well, and she’d even managed to sleep in the hospital for just under an hour while they waited for their discharge. The nurses had been apologetic about it taking so long but it had been a busy night in the emergency room, and Oliver had taken one look at the woman fast asleep in the bed and assured them that everything was fine. Once discharged, she had woken only long enough to get home and change out of her clothes before she was fast asleep again, not even waiting for Oliver’s arms to fall around her before she was out for the count.

It gave him a lot of time to think about what had happened the night before; how she had reacted to him, and how he had snapped. Neither of them had handled the situation well, and he wasn’t sure how things may have ended if the baby hadn’t given her a swift reminder of what they should be fighting for.

So he was surprised when her arms circled around his waist, her belly pressing into his side as she sauntered up to him lazily.

“Hey, what are you doing up?” he asked her, casting an eye to the clock before he turned to her, his arm drawing around her shoulders.

“Baby wanted to pee, and I wasn’t tired once I was up,” she mumbled, though he could see that freshly-awake look bleariness still tugging at her.

“How are you feeling?” he asked her.

“Fine,” she assured him, kissing his shoulder. 

He brought his hands down to her bump carefully. “Felicity…”

“Really, I feel okay,” she assured him, placing her hands over his. “Totally normal. No cramping, nothing.”

“Good,” he breathed, his sigh of relief heavier than he thought it might be. “You scared me last night,” he admitted, pressing his forehead against hers.

“You seemed to have the situation handled,” she reminded him, recalling his very calm demeanor in the hospital. 

He shook his head slowly. “I didn’t want you to be worried,” he whispered.

“I was terrified,” she sighed.

“I know. But I…” he broke off as if he couldn’t voice the words, looking conflicted. 

She frowned, removing her hands from her bump and bringing them up to his cheeks. “Are you okay?” she asked him softly. 

“Can I show you something?” he asked her quietly.

“Sure,” she nodded softly, letting him take her hand and pull her down the hall. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“Bedroom,” he said simply. 

But she frowned when he lead her instead to the empty bedroom that was reserved for the baby. It was still in storage mode, with boxes of things that they’d ordered but hadn’t had time to put together yet, and Felicity had really wanted to change the colour before they started getting things ready, but as always, there hadn’t been time. “This isn’t our-”

“Close your eyes,” he whispered, coming to a stop before it. 

Her frown deepened. “Oliver-”

“Please,” he said simply, a look of quiet longing in his gaze that made her nod and close her eyes.

He waited for a moment, tightening his grip on her hand before she heard the door click open and he was taking her inside. 

“Okay, open.”

“Oh my god…Oliver,” she breathed out, taking a step forward and releasing his hand as her eyes opened and she looked at the room around her. 

Her child’s nursery.

It looked larger than it had done when they moved in, despite no longer being empty. The boxes had been removed an unpacked, the walls painted, everything ready...and perfect. Tears came to her eyes as she saw the mass of blue sky and green foliage on the walls, a jungle scene with animals painted in every available space. Monkeys, tigers, giraffes, elephants, rhinos, all peering out behind plants… none were expertly drawn, all in some child-friendly cartoon form, but most definitely hand decorated. 

Every leaf was green. Every flower was lilac.

Green for a boy, lilac for a girl. Exactly how she’d wanted.

More so, there was furniture. A dresser with animal engravings which they’d picked out stood over in the corner, with changing equipment on top. There were curtains draping lightly over the wooden blinds that had monkey faces grinning out along the trim. Beneath the window was the very nursing chair that looked far too expensive for what she’d budgeted for the baby, one that would allow her to sit and nurse comfortably within the baby’s room. One that she knew Oliver had seen her tracing her hand over the backrest of and she’d walked away forcing a comment about how she couldn’t believe how expensive a chair could be.

“This is…”

“Is it okay?” he asked quietly, hesitance in his voice.

“You remembered,” she breathed out, her hand touching the nearest animal on the wall - an elephant. 

“I started planning it the day you mentioned it.” he confessed.

She turned around to face him. “Oliver…”

He swallowed, stepping closer to her. “We might not ever be able to give this baby everything you dream of for it. Life doesn’t work that way. But you wanted a nice nursery with animals on the wall, and...and that we can do,” he murmured. “We can give them that.”

“How did you do all of this?” she asked.

“Those nights I couldn’t sleep…” he started, trailing off and letting her end the rest of that sentence herself. 

Her gaze drew around the room. “This is...this is  _ perfect _ , Oliver,” she whispered breathlessly.

“I’m glad you like it,” he smiled. 

“You even got a crib…” she said, breaking away from him to stand over it. It was filled with stuffed animals, all matching the walls, and she wondered for a moment if that’s where he’d drawn them from until she ran her hand over the wood of the crib, noting the subtle dents and scratches. 

“Oh, you...we don’t have to keep it,” Oliver blurted, stepping up behind her. “I know you were looking at one online, I just got this out of storage so you could see how the room would look,” he babbled, with all the intensity that she may have done.

She frowned, turning to him. “What do you mean, out of storage?”

He gave a weak one-shouldered shrug. “I just didn’t want the room to be empty.”

“Oliver, was this your crib?” she asked him.

He took a breath, then nodded. “Mine and Thea’s,” he confirmed. “The Queen family crib, actually. It’s been fixed up a few times through the years.”

They both fell silent, Oliver in his nervousness and Felicity with her disbelief. She let out a gentle sigh. “Oliver, this is…”

“We don’t have to use it,” he said quickly. “I just thought it might help you see…”

“See what?” she asked when he didn’t finish.

“That we’re going to be a family,” he released a low sigh. “Felicity, I’ve been trying to save your life for so long, and I...I want to start living it  _ with  _ you instead. I want you to see that this baby is just as important to me as you are. I don’t just want to help you do this, I want… you  _ are _ my family, both of you.”

She turned to him, placing her hands on his cheeks. “Oliver...I want to use the crib.”

“You do?” he asked.

She nodded up at him. “I want us to be a family. I love you.”

“Felicity-”

She cut him off, correcting herself as she joined their hands over her stomach. Here, beside the crib they’d bring the baby home to, the room they’d go to in the middle of the night when a cry summoned them, she’d never loved him more. The lengths this man had gone to show her that she deserved more were staggering, and he hadn’t just done it because it was the right thing to do, he’d done it because he loved her because he wanted to. “We,” she whispered. “ _ We _ love you.”

He swallowed thickly, pressing his forehead down against hers with an unsteady release of breath. “I used to dream about this.”

“Us?” she asked.

“You. A family with you,” he breathed out, his thumbs stroking over her stretched skin. “I used to think about it before I went to sleep.”

She knew the thought settled him after nightmares, the idea of her hands, her touch, her lips, but to know he’d lay awake and imagined them together, not just as lovers but as a family, made her heart skip a beat. “Oliver…”

“I want to thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me-”

“No, I have  _ everything  _ to thank you for,” he told her firmly. “I never thought I’d deserve a life like this, Felicity. I never thought I’d have a family, a woman who loved me, a child. I am so...happy with you. Thank you for letting me a part of this.”

“Thank you for doing this with me,” she smiled back at him. 

“Felicity-”

“No, it’s my turn,” she told him, drawing his eyes up to hers from where he’d been looking down at their hands. “I started off this pregnancy in the worst position and I… now we’re safe. No one’s hurting us. No one’s making us scared. We have a home that’s safe and warm. My baby’s going to grow up with a father who loves them and...god, Oliver, how do I  _ ever  _ thank you for that?” she whispered tearfully. 

“You don’t have to,” he said. “We’re in this together.”

“Oliver…I love you so much,” she choked out, pulling his cheeks down to her, bringing his lips within reach. She kissed him until he was breathless, until his hands were clutching tightly at her, as if they were both desperate and terrified to ask for more.

“I love you, Felicity,” he breathed against the skin of her throat when his kisses wandered. “God, I’ve loved you…”

“Show me.”

“Felicity…”

The words had left her before she even realised it. But it was time. She needed more. She needed him. She wanted it, more importantly. Body insecurities be damned. 

“Oliver…” she whispered, bringing his eyes up to hers. “Please…”

How they made it across the hall to their own bedroom is not a fact that she filed away for remembrance. Her hormones were raging, flooding her body with need while Oliver had her pants off before she’d even crossed the doorway. The fingers she’d fallen in love with the last few weeks were quick to divulge her of her underwear, lower her to the bed and bring her to her climax as he leaned at her side and kissed her.

But in her bliss, she barely noticed him moving, not until she felt a kiss on her inner thigh and she was pushing up from the bed, looking down at him in alarm.

He jerked his head up from where he knelt between her parted knees at the edge of the bed, but he saw something in her gaze and softened his own, the aroused expression returning to his gaze. “No one’s ever done this for you, have they?” his voice rumbled in understanding, pressing another kiss in the same spot. 

She bit her lip, vulnerable under his intense gaze, and slowly shook her head. It took everything she had not to wriggle beneath him. She was far from innocent, but this was something new, and she had no doubt that with Oliver involved, it would be intense. 

“Do you want me to do this?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she breathed out, her head dropping as he returned his fingers to the wetness between her thighs.

“Do you trust me?” he asked her, as his kisses inched higher, closer and closer to her centre.

“Yes,” she sighed with a whimper,  feeling him draw her leg over his shoulder before his fingers were gone, and his tongue darted up to lightly swipe up the length of her slit. Her hips jerked up and he let her adjust before he did it again, slower with a firmer press of his tongue, drawing a cry from her lips when he made contact with her clit. 

“God, Felicity,” he breathed out before he gave up his control and buried himself against her. He didn’t tease her, not like he did with his fingers at night when he coaxed her towards her orgasm, this time he was relentless. His tongue flattened against her, and just when she thought it was all too much, he pulled his fingers out of her, replacing it with the far warmer, far sweeter sensation of his tongue sliding into her while his thumb rubbed circles on her clit. It was over in moments and she didn’t fight it, crying out his name as her hips slammed up towards his mouth, arching away from the bed in hopes of more.

Yet she didn’t think she could take more. She fought to get her breath back, sitting up at the moment Oliver placed her leg back down on the ground and drew his lips to hers for a deep kiss. It sent another jolt through her to taste herself on his lips, and as he rose up to press against her she could feel him hard against her thigh, his torso molding around hers and--

\--and then they were darting away in surprise, looking down at her stomach.

“Did it just-”

“I think it-”

She felt it again and reached frantically for her hand, grinning when it happened “The baby’s kicking.” It was surreal. She’d felt flurries of movement but nothing like this, though when she looked back up to Oliver’s face he looked mildly horrified. “Oliver?”

“It kicked me off you,” he blurted out.

It took everything she had not to laugh at him. “What?”

“It doesn’t like me touching you, the baby’s angry, oh my god-”

She did laugh that time, cupping his cheek as she kissed his parted lips. “Don’t freak out on me,” she told him lightly. “This is a good thing. It’s the endorphins. The baby isn’t angry at you.” She pulled him up for another kiss. “But I might be if you stop.”

Never let it be said that Oliver would disappoint her on purpose.

It took a moment for them to return to their former urgency, and then to settle into a position that was comfortable for them both. She felt awkward as she moved up the bed with him, lowering above him. Her stomach almost rested on her thighs, her breasts felt heavy and swayed with each movement. It was still her body, and yet, it wasn’t. Oliver trailed his fingers over the hem of her nightgown, fully prepared to slide his hands beneath it when she stopped, slowly pulled the gown over her head and set it down behind her.

She didn’t feel attractive, not until she saw how he looked at her. It wasn’t just lust that clouded his eyes when she was finally,  _ finally,  _ bared to him fully for the first time. He sat up beneath her to kick away the sweatpants he’d worn to bed the previous night, tracing his hands up her bare back and down over her front before he took a moment to just drink her in. He looked at her like she was a goddess, reaching up to her cheek to draw her down for a kiss, and when she felt him, hot and hard so close to the place she wanted him most, they both moaned. 

They fit together with a moan of longing finally fulfilled. There was no sense of urgency, not when they were joined, not when they molded to become one, and they had to brace themselves on one another to deal with the rush of emotion that came from it. It took a moment for her to adjust, not just to the size of him but to the feelings it stirred in her, and it was an accidental jerk of his hips against her that had a slow rhythm setting. 

She couldn’t take her eyes off him as she rocked above him, supported by his hands on her hips when they weren’t roaming over her exposed flesh. He couldn’t stop touching her, couldn’t help but need more of her even with all of her within his grasp. He pulled sighs, whimpers, moans and cries from her lips, and she couldn’t take her eyes off of him because despite everything that had happened, she couldn’t believe it was actually Oliver.

The pleasure on his face was so raw, so apparent, that she wanted to drown in it. His eyes were dark and half-lidded, working his lower lip between his teeth as he matched the movements of her hips and started to drive up into her. It was her name on his lips when he moaned, and when she shattered, he was right behind her, falling into the abyss where there was nothing but warmth, pleasure, and each other.  **  
  
**

**\------** **  
** Oliver didn’t want to get out of bed, and he didn’t see any reason why either of them needed to move. 

It was clearly something to do with the naked woman in his arms and the morning he’d spent making love to her.

He wanted to stay underneath the thin duvet - the thick winter one had been swapped out weeks ago after her hormones had shot her body temperature through the roof - far away from the world that claimed to hold more beauty than what he knew he would see when he opened his eyes. Everything he wanted and needed was right in his arms. The only real beauty to be seen would be appreciated through the way her hand was gently stroking up and down his bicep. 

The sun was going down behind him, his back to the window that had been left open to fill the room with a glow he was still aware of. With the warmth of the fading light on his back, Oliver wondered if, now that she could rest so contently this close to him, could he have her closer tomorrow, and more so the next day? She was, and would always be, his greatest desire, even now that he could call her his own. 

He may not have been able to see the woman in his arms, but he could feel her; warm and pliant in his embrace with the scent of berry shampoo and sweat tickling his senses. A shower was definitely on the cards for them both, but he didn’t even have the inclination to move his hand from the small of her back, let alone untangle himself from her entirely. 

Her inhale pulled him further away from the remnants of his light dozing. The action pressed her upper body against his briefly, her bare breasts and the curve of her stomach brushing against him, and he pressed his hand more firmly to the base of her spine, holding her that close to him - right where he could feel them both. He could feel this blissful moment starting to end, beginning with the way that her lips tilted up to his, brushing against them. It wasn’t quite a kiss, rather a soft touch while sharing the same air, sweet, gentle and--

\--hungry. Her stomach, at least, judging from the loud rumble that sounded between them.

He pecked his lips against hers once, then started to pull back from her.

“No,” she protested in a small whine, reaching her arms around him and trying to pull him back to where he’d been lying beside her.

“Gotta get some food,” he told her, peppering kisses over her cheeks and forehead as he slipped out from under the sheet. 

“Later,” she grumbled, sliding her fingers around his and tugging him back again.

“Nope,” he told her. “You need to eat.”

“I need to cuddle,” she corrected him.

“You’re growing a baby,” he pointed out. “You haven’t eaten since breakfast. I’ll get some sandwiches and bring them in,” he assured her, pulling his boxers from earlier on as he got up and walked towards the door.

“Wait, come back,” she insisted.

This time, he indulged her, going back to the bed where she had propped herself up on one elbow to watch him. When he leaned over, she placed a hand on the back of his neck and drew him down for a kiss. Slowly at first, she drew him in with a brush of her lips before he claimed hers completely. He sought entry into her mouth, knotting his tongue around hers until he was balancing on his elbows despite his insistence that she needed food.

When he was just about to surrender to her request, when he was reaching for the hem of the sheet to pull it down and reveal her bare form to him, she inched her head away from him, breaking their kiss even as he tried to follow her. 

“Can I have pickles in my sandwich?” she asked sweetly, tapping her fingertips over his cheek before she lay back and stretched in his unoccupied space.

“I’m going to get you back for that,” he warned her lightly, his hand unconsciously stroking her stomach over the bedsheet as he stood up again.

“Looking forward to it,” she replied.

It took everything he had not to look back at her again.

\----

 

John and Lyla’s daughter was born seven weeks before Felicity’s due date. John ran out of the lair an hour earlier than planned that night, with the message that Lyla’s water had broken, and from then on the team packed up and went home. Oliver and Felicity barely slept, cell phones both on the mattress in case they slept through an update, and they waited with clasped hands and gentle kisses to be told.

Just after breakfast, they got a picture message of a newborn little girl and they’d rushed over to the hospital.

She was beautiful, sweet and silent as she was passed around the room at those who had come to adore her. The couple waited outside for the family members to finish before they entered with their congratulations for the new little family. Felicity cooed over Lyla’s side at the tiny little girl, and Oliver was about to join her when John’s words stopped him.

“You’re not prepared for it, man.”

He turned to him with a small frown. “What do you mean?”

But rather than look concerned, John’s exhaustion gave way to a smile. “That rush of love, the first time you see them… you think you’re ready for it, but you’re not, trust me. The moment I looked at her...everything changed.”

After the two shared a brief embrace, Oliver went over to where Felicity was holding the newborn in her arms. It was a somewhat awkward embrace where she needed to hold the baby against her chest to fit her over her bump, but it floored him. As much as his stomach would warm at the sight of her running her hand over her bump, there was something heart-stopping in the way she smiled down at an infant within her arms. 

Beautiful was not a strong enough word.

He came up to her side, one hand reaching out to stroke the baby’s tiny hand as it grasped Felicity’s, and smiled up at her. 

“Isn’t she gorgeous?” Felicity whispered, not wanting to wake the sleeping girl.

“Yeah,” he murmured back, his gaze rising back to her smile. “Does it scare you?”

“Knowing that we’ll be here soon?” she asked, meeting his gaze. “Not at all.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

She nodded, stroking her finger across the baby’s cheek. “I’m ready to meet my baby now,” she decided quietly. “I want to hold them and have them in my arms and…” she broke off with a sigh, but a happy one, as she looked back up at him. “I’m ready for us to do this,” she decided.

“So am I,” he agreed, kissing her forehead. “It suits you, a baby in your arms,” he said quietly, unheard by anyone but her.

She was about to answer when the newborn squirmed and started to whimper for her mother, and Felicity laughed. “Maybe so, but this one we have to give back.”

\--

 

Later that night, high on new-baby-smell and a too-delicious-for-this-world pasta dish, Felicity came out from the bedroom in her nightclothes with a small folder in her hands. It wasn’t at all uncommon for Oliver, who glanced up at her with his usual soft smile as she approached him, but rather than sit down beside him on the couch she sat down on the coffee table before him, easing herself down carefully as she did. 

“So, I did something for you,” she told him, as he sat up straighter and leaned his forearms on his knees.

“Oh?” he asked, giving her room to continue as his eyes flickered down to the folder in her lap that her fingers tapped against.

“Do you remember, when you showed me the nursery and the crib...you said that you wanted me to know that you wanted both me and the baby to be a part of your family?” she recalled.

He smiled gently, placing his hands over hers to cease her nervous tic. “You are part of my family,” he assured her.

“I know,” she smiled back, before she continued. “It made me realise that you’ve gone to these great lengths to make us feel that way, and now this baby is going to have a father who loves it, and that’s incredible,” she half-laughed. “But you aren’t the only part of this family that we’re coming into,” she added.

He frowned a little. “Felicity-”

She pushed the folder into his hands, his voice dropping off as he opened it and glanced at the contents. It wasn’t a lot, but it was the biggest lead they’d had, and she’d found photographs and some records he could use. She watched his features soften with relief as he looked through it, one hand leaving the papers to come up and rub across his jaw.

“Thea’s in Corto Maltese,” she said quietly by way of explanation. “She never went to Europe, which is why we could never find her there, we were looking in the wrong place. But I got a tip, and I followed it up, and it came back yesterday.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were still looking?” he asked without looking up, his eyes fixated on a photograph of his sister laughing in the sunshine, her hair shorter but her entire being happier than he had seen her in some time.

“I didn’t want to bring you another dead end,” she told him. “I wanted to make sure I had something, and now we do.”

He sighed as he looked down, the hand on his jaw dropping down to clasp at her hand. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I was starting to think…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I was starting to think.”

She squeezed his hand. “She’s working in a bar, waitressing,” she explained. “The pictures picked up on facial recognition from a couple’s Facebook photos she was in the background of,” she continued before she brought his hand up so she could place a firm kiss against his wrist. “Oliver, you’re starting a family. You’re about to have a baby.” He looked up at her as if this news had startled him back into another life, one that Thea wasn’t included in. “She should be part of that family. Baby’s going to need an aunt with a shopping problem,” she added with a smile.

That broke through Oliver’s walls, bringing a huffed laugh from him. “She would love a niece or nephew to spoil,” he agreed.

“You should call her, when you’re ready,” she suggested, a supportive smile crossing her lips. “This baby’s going to be part of her family too, and I know you want her home.”

He closed the folder she’d given him, shifting forwards until their knees were touching and his arms were looped around her waist. “You’re full of surprises, Felicity Smoak,” he admired through a sigh. “Thank you,” he repeated. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” she assured him, recalling words he’d spoken to her months earlier in a darkened hotel room. “This is what you do for the people you love.”

 

\----

  
  


“Mmm, I am never going to get used to waking up like this.”

Oliver’s voice was gruff as he rolled towards her. Most mornings, she agreed with him. His half-sleeping rumbles against her ear were once the content of quiet dreams, but the last weeks had brought them to a reality where it was every day. She’d always imagined a love with Oliver being anything but ordinary, something that felt exciting and brand new every day, and when it wasn’t, it had surprised her. She’d never found joy in the everyday, like she had with him. She supposed that was why they called it domestic bliss. It was happiness in the calm, joy in the in between moments of excitement. It was an arm at her waist as she fell asleep, a shoulder against hers as they made dinner, a foot toying with hers beneath the table. 

For so long they’d denied each other the idea of being in love, and now they were finally together, they’d discovered it was easy. 

He’d been patient. He’d been so patient with her, waited so long, taken each offered touch with a smile and never pushed her for what she hadn’t been ready for. And when she’d been ready it had been glorious, it had been passionate and loving, and everything she’d ever imagined it would be like to be in bed with Oliver Queen. She traced the curve of his jawline, feeling him stir beneath her until he was rolling to face her and nuzzling his half-sleeping face into her neck.

“You’ll get bored of it real soon,” she teased, as he rubbed his stubble over a ticklish spot that made her squirm towards him and he placed a kiss over her pulse.

“Not possible,” he mumbled in response.

“I have to move to get to the bathroom all the time,” she pointed out.

“Mmm, that is a minor inconvenience,” he agreed, as his hand slipped back and over her spine. He dipped his fingers into her lower back and tapped them teasingly before he slid his hand over her backside and squeezed once. 

“For you maybe,” she pointed out, biting her lip as his action tugged her closer to him. “It’s a huge one for me.”

“The baby is not a huge inconvenience,” he scolded her lightly, giving her a firmer squeeze before his hand trailed up and over the expanse of her stomach. Though she slept mostly in his shirts, they always rode up in the night either from her fidgeting or Oliver’s roaming hands. Now that she was entirely comfortable with his touch, he didn’t hold back. He’d linger over her back as she cooked, or stroke from her knee up her thigh as they watched television. A lot of the time, his touches ended up in sex, as if they’d hit a honeymoon period where touch was sacred and orgasms were plentiful. And they were - he was a very generous lover, as well as her body being far more sensitive than she remembered when it was treated right.

“You just like having more skin to touch,” she pointed out as he curled his fingertips over the bump.

“Hmm, not going to deny that one,” she felt him grin against her. 

Before she could argue further, his lips came up to cover hers, and he was rolling her onto her back without letting her pause for breath. While she wasn’t comfortable in that position for long, she had to admit the feeling of Oliver between her thighs was worth a momentary crushing for, but he’d just started moving his kisses across her throat and down towards the neckline o f his shirt that she wore when a shrill beep tone sounded through the room.

“Was that my phone?” she asked distractedly.

“Doesn’t matter,” he mumbled as he slid his hands up beneath the shit, intent on removing it. “You’re busy.”

“Am I?” she laughed, reaching down to grab his hands, deviating them from their path.

He grinned, shifting their hands until he was moving hers back down to the mattress on either side of her head. “You’re about to be,” he said, releasing his grasp with a wink before he moved back down the bed.

Another beep interrupted them.

“No, that’s definitely my phone,” she said, shifting and propping herself up. “It must be important, can you get it?”

He glanced around. “Where did you throw it?”

“I didn’t throw it anywhere,” she told him. “You knocked it off the nightstand last night.”

“You didn’t complain,” he smirked as he got out of the bed, searching for the phone.

“I’m still not complaining,” she muttered, taking in his naked form. “Just pass it, please?”

He ducked down, making a very clear show of plucking her panties off the phone and tossing them aside before he handed it to her. “Here, got it.”

She took her phone, thumbing in her passcode before she looked at the message. An unknown number flickered before the screen as she opened it. “Mmm.”

_ I miss you. You haven’t been home in a while. Are you mad at me? _

“Everything okay?”

“What?” she jolted up quickly at Oliver’s voice, sliding her phone closed as she deleted the message. 

“You’re frowning,” he noted, going over to the dresser and taking out a pair of boxers.

“Oh, it’s just...nothing,” she waved off as she put it aside, watching him start to dress.

“Are you sure?” he frowned as he pulled a shirt over his head.

“Yeah,” she forced a smile. “Just a service message.”


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this one's a bit of a mammoth chapter. It gets pretty intense here, so please remember the TRIGGER WARNINGS in place for discussions of domestic violence and abuse.

Felicity felt anxiety ride up in her stomach. She wrung her hands so tightly that her wrist ached - it didn’t worry her, she knew she had healed, but she still felt an ache if she stretched it too much. She remained in the doorway of the kitchen for at least five minutes, watching Oliver do the dishes. He had his back to her, the movements of his arms creating a repetitive, almost rhythmic roll of his shoulders, and in a hypnotic way it almost stopped her.

Almost.

“Oliver, I need to talk to you about something.”

He turned to her as calmly as if he’d known she was there the entire time. He probably had, she realised. But regardless, he wiped his hands on a dry dish cloth and gave her his full attention. “Sure, what is it?”

She bit her lip. “I...have to tell you something.”

He pushed away from the counter, walking over to her. His eyes travelled quickly over her face and her stomach, his hands falling to the later. “Are you okay? Is it the baby?” he asked. The baby jumped beneath his touch, and despite his concern it dragged a hint of a smile to his lips. The baby moved a lot now, and seemed to love the sound of Oliver’s voice.

“No, it’s...well, it’s about someone else,” she explained.

“Who?” he asked.

His name was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t do it. She stepped back, waving her hand. “Actually, it...doesn’t matter.”

“Felicity…?” he questioned , reaching for her hand and capturing it gently with his own.

“It’s not important,” she insisted.

“Felicity-”

“Really, don’t worry about it,” she cut him off, turning away from him.

Her hand snagged when she tried to pull away, and when she stopped, she found him looking at her with far too much understanding. “Oliver-”

“Is it something to do with these messages you’ve been getting?”

Her body ran cold at his words, as if he’d chilled her, as if he’d frightened her. “I-”

“It is, isn’t it?” he assumed.

How did he know? Had he seen her phone? “Oliver, please-”

“Is it him? Felicity, is it him?”

She nodded, biting down on her lip after she drew in a hitched breath. “Yes.”

“Show me,” he said simply, holding out his hand.

She slipped her phone into his palm, watching as he started thumbing through the messages she’d been receiving. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, noting how his expression changed from concern, to rage, to the calm sense of impending violence that she knew all too well on his face.

“How long has this been going on for?” he asked her quietly, still scrolling up on her phone. His voice was void of all feeling, cold and dangerous.

“A couple of weeks,” she whispered, turning her face down towards the ground. She clenched her hands into fists when she could feel her small digits trembling. “Oliver, please don’t get mad at me…” 

“Is this all of them?” he asked, speaking ov er her.

Her hands came up to her chin. “I’ve been ignoring them, I swear.”

“Felicity, is this all of them?” he asked again, his voice firmer as if she hadn’t answered him.

“Yes.”

“Has he called you?” he pressed.

“No.”

“Has he tried to see you? Talk to you in person?”

She shook her head, uncertainty taking over her. Some of his messages were suggestive that he’d seen her, but he’d never asked to. “I don’t think so-”

“Felicity, have you seen him?” Oliver asked, his voice getting louder again as he put her phone down on the table. “Has he been following you?”

“I swear I haven’t been seeing him,” she said, her voice getting quieter as she shook her head. She could feel her legs shaking now, an effect of Darren’s presence she hadn’t felt in some time. It made her head spin, made her feel sick, made the sound of his nauseating voice creep in from the corners of her mind she’d managed to confine him to when she was with Oliver.

_ Nobody dresses like that to go to work. Where have you really been going? _

“Felicity-”

He thought she’d been seeing Darren. That she’d seen him, met with him, been talking to him behind his back, as if she had kept an affair from him. “I’d never do that to you. You have to believe me,” she pleaded, tears welling in her eyes, because if Oliver didn’t trust her, who would?

“Felicity, I don’t-” 

_ Tell me. _

“Please, don’t be mad at me,” she repeated. “I haven’t been talking to him, I swear.”

“I don’t understand,” he told her with a frown.

_ Are you lying to me, Felicity? _

How could he understand? She’d told him she’d give him every part of her - she  _ had _ given him every part of her, and how had she repaid him? “I’m not cheating on you. I’d never-”

His hands were on her shoulders quickly, a gentle touch that turned his confusion into concern and a whispered tone. “Hey, no, no,  _ no… _ .Felicity, hey...I’m not mad at you,” he assured her quietly. 

_ You know what I’m going to do if you’re lying to me.  _

She swallowed thickly, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I swear I-”

“It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s okay,” Oliver hushed her, bringing his hands up to her face. He cradled her gently as if she hadn’t done any wrong. “Don’t be afraid. Please don’t be afraid of me.”

_ Being nice to you doesn’t work, does it? I can’t ask you to do something politely because you wouldn’t do it.  _

Oliver’s face was so open, so deeply honest that she felt she was staring into his very soul. She could feel Darren’s grip on her like a vice, unwelcome and as cold as his hands had once been. It forced her focus onto the warmth of Oliver’s palms, trying to anchor herself to this moment in the present. “I didn’t encourage him,” she told him shakily.

“I know,” he said softly, nodding as his thumb stroked over her cheekbone. “I know, hon. I know you wouldn’t do that.”

“You-”

“I trust you, Felicity,” he assured her. “I just need to know how far  _ he’s _ taking this.”

_ Your friends can’t be trusted. You don’t need them. You only need me. _

Despite his reassurance, she clamped down on her lip. “I didn’t-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he told her. “You did the right thing not replying to him. He has no right to send you these kinds of messages. He has no right to reach out to you.”

She brought her hands up to his wrists. “I want them to stop,” she said, her eyes flickering to the phone he’d set aside. 

_ You don’t deserve to be forgiven. I only treat you like this because you deserve it.  _

“Is that why you tried to tell me?” he asked her.

The easy thing to do would be to tell him ‘yes’, to let him fulfill that urge to hunt Darren down and hurt him that was always blossoming beneath the surface. But that wasn’t the truth, and she’d told herself that she wouldn’t tell any more lies for Darren. “No,” she whispered, taking a steadying breath. “I...I had to tell you because I got worried and I ran a trace on the messages this afternoon.”

“And?”

“He’s here. He’s in Starling,” she told him. “I don’t think he ever left town.”

_ Everyone else will leave you, but I...I love you. I’m always going to be here.  _

Oliver’s hands went rigid around her face. It wasn’t painful, but she could see the tension that flowed from his fingertips, back up into his shoulders. This was an Oliver that she knew very well but rarely saw without the hood shrouding his face in darkness. “Okay,” he said simply. 

“Okay?” she repeated, frowning. “Oliver, this is not okay, this is-”

“Felicity, you need to tell me where he is,” he cut her off, moving his hands from her face down to her shoulders.

“Why?” she asked. 

“Because I was very clear with him about what would happen to him if he tried to contact you again.”

She swallowed, shaking her head. “You can’t.”

“Yes, I can,” he said calmly. 

But her frown remained on her face, bringing her hands away from his. “I don’t want you doing anything stupid for me,” she insisted.

“What’s stupid is letting him think he can get away with this,” he told her, his voice growing firmer.

“What if you get hurt?” she suggested.

He gave her a knowing look, one that to anyone else might be chilling, but to her was a promise. “I am not going to be the one getting hurt.”

She brought her hands up before her. “Oliver,  _ please _ .”

“Felicity,  _ no _ ,” he told her, as serious as if he were grounding a child. “I gave him the opportunity to get out of town and to leave you alone. He hasn’t done either. Now, I have to do something about it,” he insisted, turning away from her to pick up the phone once again.

“What are you going to do?” she asked, watching his face harden as he looked through the messages again.

“I don’t know, Felicity, but I have to do something,” he sighed.

Her teeth worried at her lower lip again. “Do you think he wants me back?”

He drew in a breath. “Yes, but not for the right reasons.”

“Are there any right reasons?” she asked quietly, attempting for a scoff that didn’t sound right.

“Not with his history,” Oliver sighed, leaning back as he scraped his hand over the top of his head. “Felicity, I just want you--”

“--to be safe. I know,” she nodded.

“You  _ and  _ the baby,” he insisted. “This is important. If he-”

“I know,” she whispered. Fear of what Darren might do to her child was the reason she’d found the strength to leave him in the first pace. She took a step forward, placing her hand flat against Oliver’s chest. “But I want you to be safe too, and he is...Oliver, he’s capable of such horrible things.”

His eyes rose to hers, stormy eyes that had seen wars and horrors she couldn’t imagine. But she realised very quietly in that moment that he filed away the night she called him for help alongside those darkest memories. “I’ve seen,” he murmured.

“Can’t you just tell him to leave us alone?” she asked helplessly.

He looked down at the phone, then back at her. She knew that doing nothing was hard for him, that he would always have an instinct to protect her, that he would always want to hurt Darren for what he’d done to her. But she didn’t want this life they were starting to be heralded by death. She didn’t want blood on her baby’s hands, a death in its name before it had even drawn breath. 

He steeled himself, his shoulders hardening as he looked back at her. “This is the last time I use words for you,” he agreed quietly.

“Oliver-” she started.

“No, Felicity,” he insisted, his voice colder as he fixed her with a look, gesturing to the phone. “This is the last time. I will do this because it’s what you want, but there won’t be a next time. If he does this again, I will kill him, and I won’t regret it.”

She swallowed. She couldn’t ask him to protect her verbally for much longer, not when his hands could so easily remove this obstacle from their lives, but she would never ask him to kill for her. She knew what taking a life did to him, and she wouldn’t make him do that for her again. “Okay.”

He tapped in a message, pressing send before he turned the screen and handed it back to her. She looked down at it just as it sent. 

_ Contact her again and I’ll kill you.  _

She swallowed, her exhale shaking as she put her phone into her pocket, closing her eyes. She kept her gaze sheltered even when a hand on her lower back steered her into a chair that she fell into gratefully. Her back was starting to ache more and more with each passing day, her body buckling under the demands of the child growing within her. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table so she could lean her head into her hands.

She almost felt her consciousness tugging away until a familiar scent roused her, and she looked up to see Oliver sliding her a mug of tea. One of his own was clutched in his other hand, and he’d fallen into the chair at her side. She muttered a thanks as she turned to him slightly and took the mug.

“Why did you mention cheating on me?” he asked, as their free hands linked.

“Because I was worried you’d think I had,” she explained.

He frowned slightly, his voice gentle. “Why?”

She took a breath, inhaling the calming steam that rose up to meet her. “Because it’s…it’s always been that way,” she shrugged lightly.

“Did he accuse you of cheating on him?” Oliver asked her.

“Yes.”

“With me?”

“Yes.”

_ Lipstick? I thought you were going to see your boss. _

Oliver’s face twisted painfully, just for a moment, but she caught him. The next time he spoke his voice was tight, as if he were afraid of the answer. “Is that why he…?”

“Sometimes,” she nodded, squeezing his hand back when he sucked in a breath and tightened his grip on her. “That night, he accused me of cheating and that the baby wasn’t his. He thought that’s why I hadn’t told him about it,” she remembered, her voice distant.

_ Lies. We don’t like lies, do we? _

“He thought the baby was mine?” Oliver realised.

She tried for an ironic smirk, but it came out as more of a grimace. “Funny how things turn out, huh?”

He sighed, his eyes closing as he leaned his forehead against her temple. “Maybe that’s what should have happened,” he muttered, almost to himself. 

“What do you mean?”

“If I hadn’t been so stupid after Russia…”

_ See, he doesn’t care about you like I do. _

“Oliver, don’t-”

“I was pushing you away to protect you, I didn’t know…” he told her, breaking off with a thick swallow. “You could have been safe with me before any of this happened.”

“And maybe we’d have a baby of our own,” she finished for him quietly.

He lifted his head, a frown crossing his features as if she’d failed to understand him. His hand pulled away from hers, falling to her stomach. “Felicity...this  _ is  _ a baby of our own,” he insisted. “He is not a part of this any more. This is  _ our  _ baby, and  _ we  _ are going to raise him or her together. It doesn’t matter that we didn’t create this baby together. This is my son or my daughter, and I will always, always love them as my own.”

It was uncontrollable, the way her tears filled her eyes and spilled over. It had her pulling her hand away from the mug so she could wipe her cheeks, choking out her words. “You can’t say things like that.”

“Felicity…”

“You know my hormones can’t take it,” she reminded him, doing her best to look annoyed at him, but he just drew his hand up to her cheek and wiped the scrap of mascara she’d missed.

“Good tears are allowed,” he told her.

“I swear, I cry all the time,” she complained, sniffing as she tried to get herself back under control. “It’s the worst thing about being pregnant.”

He just smiled at her, easing her hand back into his grasp after. “Felicity, you know that I love you.”

“I know, I-”

“-But I think you’re worried about me trusting you,” he finished.

She frowned, her lips parting to argue before she realised he was right. Darren had poisoned her mind to her own confidence, and as much as she wanted to believe that Oliver trusted her, in her moment of weakness it had been the first thing she’d doubted. “I don’t mean to think that way,” she explained.

“I know. But I think I have a solution to help,” he suggested, turning entirely in the chair so they were face on. “I think we both need some practice at opening up to each other.”

“Okay, so what do you suggest?” she asked,

He tapped one finger against the handle of his mug. “If you need to tell me something and you’re worried about telling me, then ask me for a secret. I’ll tell you something I’ve never told anyone before,” he proposed.

“Anything?” she asked. “You’d tell me what happened when you were gone?”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” she mumbled. That was a significant amount of trust she’d never have dreamed of asking for.

He gave her a slow shrug. “We’ve been focusing so much on figuring out how to be parents...we need to figure out how to be a couple as well.”

She sighed, nodding with a weak smile. “I guess you’re right.”

“But I need you to be okay with telling me things like this,” he urged her. “What happened in the past, those are your secrets and you tell me when you’re ready, when it comes to keeping you and the baby safe...I need to know these things,” he told her.

Her apology died on her lips the moment she moved to speak, because his lips were blocking her. When they parted, she moved her head to his shoulder as he embraced her - a well practiced move for them now. 

“It’s alright,” he assured her. “I’m going to handle this, I promise.”

\---

 

Secrets became their currency.  _ I hate pineapple, and it makes me gag when you order it on a pizza,  _ he confessed when she was worried about telling him that she’d broken the strap on the shoes he said he’d liked on her.  _ I got bitten by a shark once,  _ he told her when she’d caught his shirt on the door handle and torn a hole underneath the arm. _ I’m afraid I’ll never stop remembering the look on my mother’s face when she died,  _ he whispered when she’d needed to tell him that she was almost compulsively running traces on Darren’s phone.

“Tell me a secret,” she whispered, when they were lying in bed with his hand running circles over her stomach. 

The sheets were tangled between their legs, and she knew that she would need to get up and go to the bathroom soon, but the afterglow of their arousal was still thick in the air, and she loved the way they would lie together and feel the baby kick after. It was a level of intimacy she hadn’t felt before.

“I saw you before we met,” he whispered, a gentle smile on his lips as his fingertips teased at the protected feet that prodded back at him each time he hit a certain spot. It was his favourite game, as if he were really interacting with the baby.

“At work?” she asked.

“Kinda. You had a ponytail, and a polka dot shirt,” he recalled, his gaze still fixed on her stomach as it jolted beneath his hand again.

“I don’t remember seeing you,” she frowned slightly. “I mean, I knew you, but-”

“You wouldn’t have seen me,” he said confidently. “I wasn’t supposed to be there.

“When was it?” she asked.

“About two years after I went missing,” he murmured, lifting his eyes to hers at last.

Her frown deepened. “What?”

He sat up a little, propping himself up on one arm without removing his hand from her stomach. He did change the pace of his movements, though, tracing a figure eight around her midsection. “When I was doing work for Amanda Waller, she sent me back to Starling to do...well, that doesn’t matter, but I had to get into Queen Consolidated,” he explained, his focus never leaving her. “I was just about to leave but had to hide because someone was coming. And then you walked in.”

“Oh,” she whispered.

“It was late. You were doing something on the computer, but then you saw a picture of me on the desk and you said I was cute.”

Her hand rose, clapping over her mouth as the night came back to her. “Oh my god…”

His grin expanded. “And that it was a shame I was dead.”

Her blush crept across her chest as she kneaded the ball of her hand into her forehead. “And I was worried about the security cameras hearing…” she muttered to herself.

“Don’t worry, they’d been disabled,” he pointed out.

She opened her eyes again just in time to meet his kiss, her arm looping around his shoulder. “And you remembered me?” she asked. “All this time?”

He nodded. “I thought about you a lot. Not intensely.”

“Not like Laurel,” she corrected him.

His face twisted in awkwardness. “Laurel was...Laurel was a goal,” he explained. “It was something I put on a pedestal, but it was all I knew. But you were...I didn’t know you, but you made me smile,” the same smile crept onto his cheeks, soft and loving, one he only had for her. “I didn’t have a lot of reasons to smile back then.”

“My babbling made you smile…” she teased lightly.

He let out a laugh so soft it was almost a breath. “I almost wasn’t sure, that day in your office...but then you started babbling and I knew. I knew it was you. The pretty girl who thought I was cute.”

Her fingers danced over the back of his neck. “Why did you never tell me?” she asked.

He took a deep breath, shaking his head slowly. “I wasn’t ready for people to know what happened. If they knew I came back…”

“It’d make things complicated,” she understood.

“What did you need a secret for?” he asked her, while lowering his head to place soft kisses across her collarbone.

“Hmm?” she muttered in distraction.

“You asked me for a secret,” he reminded her with a small nip of his teeth. “What’s yours?”

She reached her hand down to lock her fingers between his. “I picked the baby names.”

His chin lifted, bringing his gaze back to her. “For boy and girl?”

“Yeah. But I want to keep them a secret,” she mumbled.

His eyebrows flickered together briefly. “You were worried about not telling me?”

She nodded. “I want to tell you, but I think you’ll change my mind about them.”

“Don’t you think I’ll like them?” he asked curiously.

“I think you’ll like them too much that you’ll want something different.” she explained. 

He chewed on his lip, and for a moment she thought he would ask to know them, that maybe this was a decision they should have made together, but then he gave her a smile that was far more playful. “If you keep them a secret, can I guess them?” he asked.

She smiled, shaking her head. “I don’t think you’ll be able to.”

Oliver responded by returning his head to the top of her chest, teasing kisses across her bared skin. “Felicity...do you want to play a game?” he asked, punctuating his words with heated kisses up her throat.

“What game are we playing?” she asked, squirming beneath him.

“The ‘Oliver wants to guess the baby names’ game,” he told her, before his lips closed around her hammering pulse.

She couldn’t help the slip of laughter that fell out of her. “You’re not gonna guess,” she told him, though she could already feel his fingertips inching towards a ticklish spot on her waist.

“Yeah, I am,” he grinned confidently against her. 

**\----**

 

There were some things in life that Felicity knew very well. 

She knew that Google Chrome was better than Internet Explorer. She knew that there was a certain sophistication in having a newspaper subscription in hard copy even though she only ever browsed the articles online. She knew that she liked her coffee with two sugars and lots of cream. She knew that her neighbour would never find her cat. She knew that she liked green better than blue, that she liked pink lipstick better than nude, and she knew that she’d never have enough free time to empty her TIVO.

She also knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was being followed.

She’d parked in her usual spot, just hidden away from the club’s cameras but in full view of the lair’s camera system, but as soon as she’d locked her car she felt eyes on her.

She was very, very familiar with that feeling.

It made her remember the time she was washing up, and she didn’t remember letting Darren into her apartment. She remembered soap between her fingers and the way his gaze had lingered before his hand had crept around her waist. 

_ There you are...missed you, pretty girl. _

“Felicity.”

She hadn’t even made it fully up the alley before she heard his voice to her right. It froze her in place, weighted her to the spot when she was begging her legs to move, to run. To get inside. Get to Oliver. Get away. Run. Run. Get away. 

_ Don’t you dare walk away from me, bitch. _

“Darren. What...you’re not supposed to be here,” she said, turning slowly, her hand protectively placed over her stomach as she did. It was impossible to hide her bump now, even with her overcoat on, but she needed something between him and the baby, even if it was just her hand.

“Felicity, we need to talk.” he reasoned. 

_ When I talk, you listen. Do you understand? _

She took another step towards the entrance, shaking her head. “No, you need to leave.”

_ You should know by now that you can’t walk away from me. _

He followed her, three steps to her one, his hands outstretched. “Please, I want to talk to you.”

Her voice wavered as she continued to back away. She didn’t dare turn her back on him - not since the time she had and she’d had to wear her hair down for months because of the handful he tugged out from the root. “I don’t want to talk to you, Darren.”

“Please, Felicity,” he begged, still approaching her. “We didn’t get a chance to talk.”

“Please, leave me alone,” she urged him, hoping that her movement would trigger the cameras within the lair, hoping that someone was watching, that someone would see, that someone would notice, that someone would come outside, scare him off.  _ Oliver, please look at the monitors. Please, look at the monitors. Please. _

Oliver was right. He should have done something. 

“I miss you,” Darren whispered, his face distraught. 

_ Did you miss me as much as I’ve missed you, baby? Let me show you how much. _

“No-”

“I miss you so much,” he repeated. “Please, you have to let me explain.”

She shook her head, backing away from his outstretched hand. “I have to go.”

“I’ve changed, Felicity. These last few months...I can’t live without you. I miss you.”

_ It made me realise how much I need you here. _

She sucked in a breath. That, she hadn’t been prepared for. She’d been fully prepared for Darren’s voice to echo in her mind, but she hadn’t been prepared for Oliver’s to sink in instead. Oliver who loved her. Oliver who wanted to be with her. Oliver who told her that she deserved better.

“You hurt me, Darren,” she told him. 

_ He had you and he was going to hurt you. There was no choice to make. _

“I know that,” he explained, approaching her until she had nowhere to back away from. Stepping forward until she felt her back hit the wall, and  _ then _ fear struck her. Then fear settled in her gut, her child kicking against her hand as if to say  _ mommy, this is not good. Mommy, do something. _

_ Mommy, where’s Daddy? Mommy, don’t let this monster hurt me.  _

“I know that what I did was...inexcusable.” Darren placed his hands on either side of the wall, trapping her in. She needed to fight, she needed to get him away, but she was frozen.

“No, it wasn’t just me that you were hurting!” she shook her head.

“I know, and that’s why I need you to trust me,” Darren pleaded with her. “You have to believe me, baby. I’ve been trying  _ so  _ hard to change and I have. I need to be a better man, a man you deserve, a man that our child deserves.”

_ Mommy I’m scared, I don’t like this man’s voice. _

“No…” she whispered, arching her back away from him to ensure both her hands covered her stomach. She couldn’t stand the thought of him touching her, much less touching her child. 

“We could be a family, Felicity,” he reasoned.

She shook her head firmly. “No, not like this…” 

_ Mommy, you’re scared. I can feel it. _

_ I want my Daddy.  _

“We could have that life you always wanted, Felicity,” he told her softly, placing his face in close to hers so that she recoiled visibly. “...I’m not like your father, I don’t want to leave my child.”

She could hear the tease in his tone, one that made her regret opening up to him about her father, back in the days when he was nice to her, when he took her to dinner, for drinks… He was trying to use her dream of the perfect family against her. 

_ But we have a family. _

“No, you hurt us!” she shouted at him, raising her tone to him for the first time as she tried to push him away. “I could have lost this baby because of you! Do you realise that?”

It was sickening how calmly he took her arm and pinned her against the wall. “Felicity, there’s no need to shout. It’s just the two of us...how it always should have been,” he said, tracing his hand down her cheek.

_ No, there’s three of us here, mommy. _

She leaned away from him, shaking her head. “No, this can’t happen.”

“Felicity, I can make you happy,” he whispered close to her.

“No,” she insisted, still shaking her head as she squirmed away from him as much as she could. “No, I have to think about my baby, and my baby deserves better than this,” she declared. She managed to get free of him enough to take a bursting step, but he was right there dragging her back and holding her upper arms against the wall. 

“Please, don’t walk away…” he pleaded with her.

“This is over,” she told him, her voice wavering despite her new wave of strength born from the determination to keep her child safe. “I’m with Oliver now.”

“No, no, don’t say that…” he said, shaking his head as he tightened the grip of his hands, making her wince.

“This is over between us. I don’t want to be with you,” she said with certainty. 

“Felicity, please-” he asked her. 

“My baby has a family, and I don’t want you to be a part of it.”

His hand pulled back and slammed against the wall behind her head, so close she felt the gust of air like a slap in the face. Her shift made it easy for him to grab her ponytail in his fist and drag her head back, gritting his teeth as his apologetic persona disappeared and the Darren she knew far too well reappeared. 

“ _ Dammit _ , Felicity! You  _ always  _ do this! You always have to ruin everything!”

“Let go of me!” she protested loudly, hoping for someone, anyone, Oliver to come help her. 

_ Daddy! Help!  _

“He doesn’t love you, Felicity!” Darren screamed at her, tugging her neck back painfully. “He’s only being nice so he can get what he wants. He just wants to fuck you until he’s bored of you, and what then? You’ll come crawling back to me.”

_ Because of the life that I lead… _

No. No, she had to shut them out. Both Darren’s voice and Oliver’s. Oliver was what she deserved Oliver was giving her the life she deserved and he loved her. It wasn’t about the sex. It was about intimacy in its purest form, it was about her feeling treasured. It was about her and her baby having a safe home, having someone who loved them, someone who protected them.

“No! He’d never do that to me!”

“Sooner or later, he’s going to treat you  _ exactly  _ how you deserve, and then you’ll see.”

_ … I just think it’s better not to be with someone I could really care about. _

“Stop it!” she cried out, trying to pull away from him but his grip on her hair made her cry out in pain. 

“A baby should be raised by its  _ father _ , Felicity!” Darren growled at her. “You know that!”

“Oliver will be its father! Oliver loves the baby,” she cried.

“He doesn’t even love you, Felicity,” he shouted. “How is he going to love your bastard kid?”

_ My beautiful child. You will be so loved. Don’t listen to him. You’re so loved.  _

“No-”

“It’s not real. None of this is real,” he insisted, gesturing his arm around. “You’re just fooling yourself!”

\----

“Where’s Felicity?”

Her absence felt like a warning. Ever since he’d seen the messages that Darren had sent her, something had been nagging in the back of his mind, something that had gripped him around the spine that he couldn’t shake. It was akin to the sensation of being watched, only he couldn’t feel the eyes on him. All he knew was that the feeling wasn’t so intense when Felicity walked into a room, when he could see her and gather her in his arms. 

But she wasn’t in the room, in fact, she wasn’t anywhere she was supposed to be. It unsettled him, in the least. She’d texted him twenty minutes ago to say she’d be there in fifteen, and she was nothing if not punctual. Lateness was his trademark, not hers. 

“I thought she was on her way?” Diggle asked, from the chair of the woman in question. Since Felicity had started spending less time in the foundry at night in exchange for getting some rest, Diggle had taken over some of the computer tracking. He wasn’t as good as she was, of course, but it was enough for them to keep their traces running.

Oliver glanced at his watch again, the sensation of unease rushing through him. “She should have been here by now.”

“I’m sure she’s just caught in traffic,” Diggle suggested. 

He’d have accepted that if it were anyone but her, but not when it came to the possibility of someone wanting to hurt her. “Check the cameras, tell me if her car’s here.”

“Oliver-”

“Just do it,” he snapped, far more impatiently than Diggle deserved.

He resumed his pacing, running his hand anxiously over his short hair. The longer he felt the unease the more he felt the lack of her proximity. He just needed the assurance, the knowledge that she was running late, that she was caught in traffic, that she’d been held up, that she was safe...

“She’s outside,” Diggle told him, turning to Oliver with a concerned expression. “...and she’s not alone.”

 

\---

The fear was overwhelming her so badly she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She knew that the cameras didn’t pick up sound, but she was late, they were waiting, and someone  _ had  _ to be looking. Someone had to come for her. Oliver hated leaving her side, he had to be climbing the walls, he had to be feeling her absence, he had to be coming for her. 

He’d promised he’d never let Darren lay a hand on her again.

“ _ Please _ , let me go,” she cried. “Don’t do this.”

“You know his history, Felicity...you’re a smart girl. You  _ know  _ what he’s capable of.”

She let out a sob, twisting away as much as she could without care for the pain. Oliver wouldn’t do that. Oliver had changed. He didn’t want to be the same man anymore. He didn’t want to be that person any more. He’d changed since he came home. He didn’t sleep around, he wanted to have a family with her. He wanted to have a committed, healthy relationship with her.

He didn’t ever want to hurt her.

“He wouldn’t hurt me like you did.”

“He gets bored and he strays, Felicity. He’ll find someone else, someone  _ prettier _ , someone  _ smarter _ , a better mother for his own children, and he’ll leave you and your bastard in the dust.” Darren spat his words into her face, drawing another cry of disgust from her lips. 

_ Because of the life that I lead... _

“No, he’d never do that.”

“So come home with me,” he told her, swiftly changing back to a softer tone. “Come home, where you belong.”

“No,” she pleaded with him. “Please, no-”

“We’re made for each other, Felicity,” he reminded her. “You should be with  _ me _ .”

_ No mommy, you belong with daddy, not with this monster. He doesn’t love us like daddy does.  _

“I don’t want to,” she half whimpered through her cries.

He grabbed her roughly by the jaw, turning her to face him with an angry expression ruling his features. “What was that?”

“I don’t want to be with you,” she repeated.

He smacked her so hard on the side of her face that she fell to the ground. It was sheer luck that she landed on her knees and not on her stomach, but she cradled her bump anyway, terrified that with one slip she could have landed straight against it. Darren stood over her, his eyes dark with sheer anger as he looked down at her. “One way or another, you  _ are  _ coming home with me,” he told her. “I’d rather not knock you out, but if you want to risk hurting your baby, well, that’s your call.”

He raised his leg as if he were preparing to kick her, and she backed up as much as she could, covering her stomach with both arms.

“No!”

_ Oliver! _

_ Daddy! _

“Get away from her!”

She’d never been so glad to hear his voice. She hadn’t even heard him approach, but he was there, tackling Darren to the ground and off to the side in one movement so that he could raise her to her feet. He drew her into his arms for just a moment, a brief check to her cheek and his hand moving over her stomach to assess their safety.

“Oliver!” she breathed out, holding herself to him before he was… pushing her away?

“Get inside, now,” he told her bluntly, urging her towards Diggle. “Digg, take her inside. Get her out of here.”

She could see it then.

_ Get her out of here, because I’m going to kill him. _

“Oliver, don’t!” she insisted, shaking her head and grabbing onto his arm. 

“Now,” he said, fixing her with a look before he was taking her hand off of him and moving towards Darren, who was getting back onto his feet. 

Felicity could hear their voices as Diggle pulled her away, but he didn’t let her turn away. He didn’t let her see what was happening, but she heard the taunt in Darren’s voice…

...and the danger in Oliver’s.

“You made a bad choice here, son.”

“I warned you to stay away from her.  _ Twice _ .”

“What are you going to do? Tell me again?”

“Let’s see how  _ you  _ like taking a punch.”

 

\----

 

Felicity fought wildly against Diggle’s arms as he lead her inside. Any other time she may have been able to wriggle her way out of his grasp, but with the curve of her stomach she couldn’t risk too much. The moment they were downstairs with the door locked behind them, Felicity realised that Oliver hadn’t been shepherding them in, he’d stayed outside - outside with Darren, outside with that monster - and she lashed out, straining against the hands Diggle closed around her upper arms. 

“Digg, bring him in!” she insisted desperately, bringing her hands up and grabbing at his jacket. 

“Felicity, sit down,” Diggle shook his head, casting Oliver out of his mind as he lead Felicity over to her chair. He encouraged her down but she didn’t release him as his hands came up to inspect her cheek. It was warm with the sudden pain, but she didn’t react when he touched it. 

“Digg, please-”

“Did he hurt you anywhere else?” he cut her off.

She shook her head, gesturing to the door. “No, get Oliver!” she insisted. “Don’t leave him out there.”

Diggle placed his hands on her shoulders, steadying her. “Oliver can handle himself, Felicity,” he reminded her. 

But she swallowed, heaving back a breath to try and relax her but it wasn’t happening, not with Oliver outside, not with him capable of doing something he might regret. “I want him inside,” she decided, clenching her hand around his shirt. “Digg, please…” she whispered through glassy eyes. 

Diggle paused, watching her carefully. Aside from Oliver, he was the only other person who knew everything, and she could only hope he’d understand, that he’d have heart and give her what she needed. He settled on his decision quickly, uncurling her hand from his shirt and looking over his shoulder.

“Roy, keep her here,” he instructed.

Roy was at her side in seconds, bringing another chair over to her side. “Come on, blondie, I’ve got some ice,” he said, holding out a bag of slush for her face. 

She took the ice, muttering a “thank you” though her eyes were on Diggle as he nodded once and went back to the entrance. She placed the bag against the cheek where Darren had struck her, wincing at first. She’d covered enough of his bruises to know this wouldn’t develop, but after the initial shock the cooling sensation was soothing. 

“Did he hurt you anywhere else?” Roy asked her, eyeing her carefully.

Again, she shook her head, taking deep breaths to try and calm down. Her free hand dropped down to her stomach, rubbing circles against where the baby was kicking. “No.”

“Promise?” he asked, his gaze fixed on her stomach.

“I promise,” she assured, following his gaze. “It’s just kicking,” she added. “How did you-”

“The cameras,” he explained, pointing to the screens behind her which were now blank. “Oliver knew something was wrong, we checked the cameras and saw him grab you.”

She wondered how truly angry Oliver had been in that moment. She remembered the day in her apartment, when she’d witnessed him threaten Darren once before, and again at how he’d responded to Darren’s messages. She had a feeling that if Diggle didn’t get him inside then they’d be covering up a body, and while part of her thought he deserved it, she didn’t want any deaths on behalf of her child before it was even born.

“I didn’t know he was there,” she whispered, before she looked back to Roy. “It was on the cameras?” she asked.

He nodded, setting his hand on her shoulder and rubbing it gently. “It’s okay-”

“He just…” she swallowed, shaking her head, looking back down at her stomach. “...wasn’t being very nice.” she whispered.

She remained in her seat until the door was opening again. Roy, for all his assuring presence,  was silent as she whispered soft comforts to her stomach, hoping that the shifting child within her would cease. She hadn’t imagined that adrenaline might trigger such movement, but with so much uncertainty and Diggle not back with Oliver, she only had the kicks beneath her palm for any such comfort. 

Despite her urgency to see him, having Oliver back in the foundry didn’t dispel the fear that had settled in Felicity’s stomach. Usually, having him close to her took away all the fear that Darren could cause in her, but seeing the storm in his eyes didn’t do anything but panic her more. That, and the bright red mark on his face had her certain he’d been hurt. She rushed up to her feet as quickly as she could, taking a few steps at a careful jog until she reached him. 

“Oliver…” she breathed, placing her hands up against his cheek but stopping when his sudden grasp of her interrupted her movement.

“Are you hurt?” he asked frantically, grasping her upper arm on one side as his other ran over her bump. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” she nodded, swallowing thickly.

His eyes flickered to her jaw, bringing his hand away from her bump to inspect it. “Your face…”

“It’s just a bruise,” she disregarded, pushing her arms up so he had to release her, allowing her to lean up and see his face. “He hurt you…”

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head, pulling her hand away from it.

She put more pressure on his shoulder than she knew she was capable of. “Sit down, let me see.”

He tried to move her hand away. “Felicity…”

“Let me do this,” she insisted, as he sank onto the medical table behind him. 

“I can’t,” he hissed through gritted teeth the moment her hand touched the growing shiner on his cheek. “I need to go out there and get rid of him.”

She shook her head firmly, her voice cracking slightly despite her intention to keep it calm. “Oliver, no.”

He fixed her with a firm stare. “Felicity, I said there wouldn’t be a next time,” he reminded her.

She swallowed, not looking away for a moment as she grabbed his hands and placed them over her bump. “Feel this?” she asked, keeping hers over his to make sure he didn’t remove them.

He glanced down, looking at her bump instead of meeting her eyes. “Baby’s kicking,” he murmured, feeling the now-familiar rumble of life beneath her skin rising up to meet his palm. His life felt incomplete without this sensation now.

“Baby’s saying ‘Daddy stop being stupid and say here with me’,” she corrected him.

He sighed, shaking his head as he looked up at her again. “Felicity…”

“If you won’t stay for me, stay for the baby,” she cut him off.

He met her with a huffed breath. “That’s not fair.”

“Please, don’t go back out there,” she whispered.

“I have to,” he urged.

“But-”

“No buts,” he cut her off, his voice rising slightly despite his better intentions. “He is not going to stop, Felicity. He wants you and he wants this baby, and he is not going to stop until he has what he wants. I need to get out there and stop him, so that you and our baby can be safe.”

He felt her hands flinch over his the louder his voice rose, but she didn’t back away from him. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” she replied quietly.

“The only one who’s getting hurt is him,” he told her, his voice a deep, threatening rumble that she hadn’t heard in a long time.

“You can’t-”

“I’m going to,” he snapped, moving his hands away from her stomach and pushing up to his feet. “This is over. He’s not doing this to you anymore. I have to protect you.”

“And who’s going to protect us from him if something happens to you?” she shot back at him, raising her voice to match his.

“Nothing’s going to happen except that he’s going to die, Felicity,” he shouted. He hated to see her take a step back from him, to contribute to the tears in her eyes, but he couldn’t take any more of Darren interfering in their lives. He needed this to end as much as she did, and it was not only within his power to do so, but well within his motivations. 

“No! You promised.”

“I promised to keep you safe,” he cut her off quickly.

She took a step back, shaking her head slowly before her voice lowered as dangerously as his did. “You promised this baby wouldn’t be born with blood on its hands!” she reminded him. 

“Felicity,” he murmured, running his hand over his face. “The night with the Count, we agreed that was justified because he was a criminal and he was going to kill you.”

“This is different.”

“No, it isn’t,” he snapped again. “Domestic abuse is a crime and he is going to end up killing you if this carries on. I am not going to let that happen. I’d burn the world to the ground if it means that you’re safe.”

When he stood before her, she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him quite so dangerous. His eyes had blackened in anger, even the very skin on his jaw looked like it was humming with sheer rage. He’d burn down the world, of course, she had no doubt about that. But she didn’t want to watch him try to rebuild it out of penance. She didn’t want to watch him look at her, and the baby he wanted to raise, and see something that he made an unforgivable sacrifice for. 

“I don’t want him to hurt you, Oliver,” she pleaded, one final attempt to get him to stay.

Footsteps interrupted them, and they broke apart from each other. Diggle walked towards them, his expression clearly noting the tension in the room, but the news he had was far too important to delay. “Oliver, found him,” he insisted.

“Where?” Oliver asked.

“Starling Bay. Looks like he’s hiding out in one of the abandoned units,” he explained.

Oliver nodded, stepping away. “I’ll get changed.”

“Oliver, no!” Felicity insisted, reaching out and grabbing his arm. 

“Felicity, this ends tonight, “he told her, wrapping his hand over hers before he slowly uncurled her fingers from around him. “He is leaving town. Whether he does that willingly or in a body bag is his choice.”

“Please, don’t-”

She stopped when he turned and placed one hand on her cheek, the other on her stomach. Her breath hitched as his lips came down onto hers, the kiss far more fierce than usual. “I will come back to you both,” he whispered against her lips as they parted. “I promise you.”

“Oliver…” she whispered.

He knelt down before her, bringing him level with her bump. Both his hands cradled it, placing a kiss over her shirt before he rested his forehead against it. “Be good for Mommy, baby. I’ll be back soon.” he whispered to it.

He was gone before she found her voice again. 

 

**\----**

 

Starling Bay was one of Oliver’s least favourite parts of the city. He couldn’t remember how it had looked in its prime of life. He knew as a child that this had been a prime of Starling’s industry, but for many reasons it had had fallen into varying states of disrepair and abandonment. Shelter for criminals was its main trading point now, the shadows giving way to shady deals and even more suspicious characters. Despite that, Oliver never found himself frequenting the area regularly. 

He stalked the shadows expertly, listening to Diggle’s directions through the comms unit in his ear. He’d asked for Felicity several times on the way over, if anything just to know that she was okay, that he hadn’t had the same effect on her the last time he’d had an outburst, but Diggle assured him that she was sat with Roy, that she was trying to stay calm. Their trace of him lead him to an abandoned unit that once survived as a fishery, judging from the tanks in the back corner that were no longer used and the lingering oily scent that even had his lip curling.

Oliver raised his bow quickly when movement stirred in the corner, and a figure stepped in towards him. “Who’s there?” asked the voice of the man himself.

“You and I need to talk.” Oliver growled from his spot in the shadows, only his hood and the steady arrow visible in the dim light. 

Far from the reaction he’d been hoping for, Darren stepped closer to him, a smile on his face. He didn’t seem at all the enraged man he’d been outside the foundry just an hour before. Something about his grin was dazed, heightening Oliver’s precautions as his finger tensed on the bowstring.

“The vigilante himself...in my home...what a blessing,” Darren laughed lightly, gesturing around him with open arms. 

“This is your home?” Oliver asked, glad for the modulator that altered his voice as he took in the contents of the building. Though it was vastly too big to be considered a housing unit, what little light was provided shed his sight on the clutter that stood between them. Between old crates and sheet metal, the place had been fitted with baby furniture. Against one wall, beside a mouldy mattress, was a crib that stood on uneven legs. Inside was nothing but a moth-ruined couch cushion and a dirty knitted blanket. On the floor around it were broken toys that had clearly been taken out of dumpsters for their condition, but it wasn’t the condition of the furniture that stunned him, it was the parallel.

How could this man...this sick, twisted man...present a nursery setting with as much determination as Oliver had? Oliver, who had hand painted jungle creatures on a disused wall, who had brought his family crib out of storage for this tiny new life… and Darren, who was collecting items from dumpsters… both putting together a place for Felicity’s child to come home to. Which one prepared it with more love? How could Darren, who’d caused nothing but heartbreak, even consider the idea of bringing any child back to this cold and dank excuse for a home.

“It’s good, isn’t it?,” Darren smiled, going over to the crib and tracing his hand over the rail of it. Oliver felt his stomach flip as he recalled Felicity looking down at his crib with the same adoring expression. “See, I’m a family man now. Or, I will be. I’m going to be a father, you know.” he explained, looking towards Oliver with a softened facade. 

“Men like you have failed-”

“Don’t tell me I failed the city,” he shook his head. “I don’t care about the city.”

“What you’re doing is wrong,” Oliver growled, stepping over one of the broken toys to get closer to him.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Darren asked, his face twisting as he reached inside his jacket. Oliver’s precaution seemed well-required when the man he faced took a handgun out of an inside pocket, switching off the safety as he shook his head in Oliver’s direction. “I’m trying to keep my family together.”

A sickening twist in him could only hope that he hadn’t had that weapon on him when he had confronted Felicity. If Oliver hadn’t arrived when he had, would he have held a gun to her head to get her to go with him? Would he have hurt her? The baby?

“You need to let them go,” Oliver said firmly. “They aren’t your family.”

“That’s not your place to decide!” Darren exclaimed, holding the gun up towards Oliver, who barely flinched.

“You caused pain to an innocent woman,” he told him. “You abused her, harmed her, and almost ruined her. I wasn’t there soon enough to stop it, but I won’t allow the same fate for her child.”

Darren’s face twisted into a realisation, softening again as the gun in his hand faltered. “You know my Felicity?” he asked curiously.

“She isn’t your Felicity.”

Darren shifted, starting to pace a little as he waved the gun. Each time his arm swung, it alternated it’s direction between Oliver and Darren himself. It’s unpredictable path caused Oliver to hold his position, not daring to move and provoke him into something that would result in injury to himself. Unlike this madman before him, Oliver still had someone to go home to. “I didn’t want to hurt her, you know,” Darren explained, shaking his head. “You don’t understand what it was really like. I had to correct her. She could have been the perfect woman if she’d just listened.”

Oliver fought against the need to show some correction of his own. He had to keep this professional as the Arrow, not involve the persona of Oliver Queen and compromise himself, even if the way he spoke about Felicity made his skin crawl. “You’ve been warned to stay away from her. This is your final warning, and it comes from me. Go near her again, and you’ll die. That’s a promise,” he insisted, his voice biting.

Darren paused, tilting his head slightly as he looked towards him at last, no longer focused on his excuse for a nursery or the weapon in his hand. “How do you know her?”

“Excuse me?”

“Felicity,” he explained. “How do you know her?”

_ I am the man she called when you almost killed her. _

_ I am the man who loves her.  _

_ I am the man who will show her what she truly deserves. _

_ I am the man who will raise her child.  _

_ I am the man who destroy you if you turn up near either of them again. _

“I want you out of the city by sunrise,” he growled. “Get as far away from here as you can, and I will know if you don’t.”

Darren, however, wasn’t moved by his threat. He merely watched Oliver with a curiosity that bordered on innocence. “Does she know your real identity?” he asked.

“Forget about Felicity Smoak, forget about her child,” Oliver repeated. “Just get away from them.”

“You should leave her alone,” Darren insisted, taking a daring step towards him. “I’m safe. I can keep her safe. People around you keep dying. I hardly think you’re in any place to tell me not to hurt her.”

“I said-”

“How many people have died since you knew her?” he asked, the gun waving absently in his grasp. “Because no one I know has died. I think that makes me safer to be around than you are.”

_ Tommy. His mother. God, she’d almost died herself.  _

“You put her in the hospital,” he grit his teeth. 

“That will stop in time,” he shrugged calmly. I can make her stronger. I can make her better.”

“She doesn’t need to be any better than she is,” Oliver bit out. 

Darren started to narrow his eyes, raising the gun towards Oliver once more. “She’s important to you, isn’t she?”

He looked towards his shaking weapon and steadied his own in retaliation. “Stop-”

“Of course, I should have seen it,” he laughed. “You’re in love with her.”

_ When you told me you loved me, you had me fooled. For a second, I thought that maybe you might have meant it, what you said…  _

“You don’t know anything.”

“You love her,” he continued to laugh. “Not as much as I love her, of course. That’s impossible, because we’re soulmates. But you must love her. Which means she’s close to you…” he stepped even closer, only ten feet separating the pair now. The look in his eye was bordering on dangerous now, raising the hairs on the back of Oliver’s neck. “You know, she started staying out real late when she got promoted at work. I thought she was at the office,” he explained, taking another step forward.

“Get back,” Oliver warned him.

Darren paid him no heed, only steadying his aim towards Oliver. “Except when I went to the office she was never there. Funny, huh.”

“Put the weapon down,” he told him.

_ I just got used to being your girl. I mean, not your girl, girl. Your girl. I know it sounds like the same word, but it means something different in my head. _

Darren tilted his head, a smile crossing his face without faltering his aim.  “Now, I’m not a fancy techie like she is, but I didn’t have to figure out how to track her phone to see where she was,” he continued, placing himself another step closer to Oliver.

“Step back,” he snapped again. 

“But why would she be at a club in the Glades every night? It didn’t make sense,” Darren asked, using the gun to dramatically scratch his head in thought. “Except her fancy new boss? He used to own it,” he exclaimed, reenacting his brainwave. “And then it started to make sense… all those midnight calls. All those late nights. All those cancelled dates… and all those messages from one person-”

_ Does that mean I have a shot at employee of the month? _

He stood one step away from the bow now, accusation burning in his eyes. All pretence of innocence was hidden by his apparent lunacy. 

“Don’t-”

The words rolled off his tongue, the sheer venom of his hatred wrapping each one in a horrid, vengeful whisper. “Oliver Queen.”

“One more step, and you get an arrow in your brain,” he responded.

He stepped to the very tip of the arrow, pressing it into his chest as the gun remained fixed on Oliver, inches away from his face now. But Darren’s sickening grin was relentless. “She doesn’t love you like she loves me, you know that, don’t you?” he taunted. “You can’t give her what I’ve given her. You can’t even hide behind your money any more, can you?”

_ I don’t want to be safe. I want to be with you… and the others. Unsafe.  _

“I told you to put the weapon down,” he emphasised. 

“You’ll never know how perfect she can be...when she’s being good, when she’s listening,” he explained, shaking his head as if he pitied Oliver for that fact. “Sometimes she just pushes too hard and you have to show her her place, but if we can’t find the perfect woman, we have to make her, right? I’m sure you understand,” he added with a small shrug.

“I’d never hurt her,” Oliver insisted, his sense of control slipping now that his identity had been compromised. A man like Darren was even more dangerous in this position, because he could use this knowledge against him - Oliver couldn’t help Felicity from inside a prison cell, which was leaving him with a very limited number of options. 

_ Iron Heights is better at keeping secrets than it is at keeping prisoners. _

“But she likes it,” Darren explained calmly. “She needs it.”

“You’re a monster,” he spat, tightening his palm around his bow. 

“I love her,” he insisted. “I’m doing what’s best for her.”

By now, his steady arm was almost shaking in rage. That Darren absolutely believed his actions were correct was all the more disturbing. He wondered what kind of act he’d pulled to even win Felicity over in the first place, whether he’d taken her to dinner, or brought her flowers… he wondered how long he’d played her for a fool before he raised his hand to her. “You deserve to  _ die  _ for what you did to her.”

“I can make her perfect. I can make her exactly what she was supposed to be,” he insisted. 

“I will kill you if you even think about touching her again,” he spat back at him. 

“She learns to like it, eventually,” Darren assured him, thinking it over with a small shrug after. “She screams at first, but trying new things is important in a relationship. It’s always good to be adventurous, sexually, I mean. No one likes a prude,” he laughed slightly. 

“I swear-”

He cut Oliver off, continuing as if he’d never heard his interruption. “But if you put pressure  _ just right _ on the throat, hardly any sound comes out,” but he stopped himself with another laugh. “What am I telling you for? I bet you know all about how to choke a person just right without killing them,” he mused.

_ I have been hurt every way you can imagine. _

_ I know what kills, I know what cripples, and what just hurts. _

Oliver had left. He’d left to satisfy his own mourning, and Felicity had searched for him. That he’d known, but he’d never known the price she’d paid for it. He knew now that she’d been beaten, that she’d been hurt against her will, but to know that she’d been molested and assaulted for trying to find him… and that she’d still come to find him … his self control was non-existent. 

Was that why she’d come all the way to the island to find him? Begged him to come back?

Had she wanted to ask him then to help her?

Oliver adjusted his aim at last, raising the bow several inches until the tip of the arrow dug into Darren’s jugular. His blood was boiling, his arms evidently shaking with rage now with the force it took to stop him from choking Darren with his bare hands. He wouldn’t care for how much sound came from him, though. He wanted to hear him scream, he wanted to hear his pain and triple it for what he’d made Felicity feel. 

“I will kill you,” he insisted, his low tone tremoring with promise. “I will tear you apart-”

“I have you to thank for that, by the way. I’d never have learned how much she enjoyed it until the night after the Glades crumbled,” Darren praised him, as if thanking him for an act of friendship.

His arm faltered, the arrow dropping half an inch as his back leg almost fell from underneath him. 

_ Lian Yu. _

_ Tommy. _

_ The undertaking. _

“No…” he whispered. 

“She tried to find you, I think. She was always checking the news, googling your name, but no one knew where you were. Every time your family were on the news she’d get this look in her eye...and I knew,” Darren told him, his face distant and his gaze turned away as he told Oliver, but he quickly shook his head, adjusting his grip on his weapon as he grinned at him. “So when she woke up in the night crying out for you...well, I had to shut the bitch up, didn’t I?” he reasoned. 

_ The way she’d bite her lip, clamp down the words that spilled so easily from her mouth. _

“You wouldn’t dare-”

“You left her, and I was there for her,” Darren stated simply. “You don’t deserve her.”

_ Because of the life that I lead, I just think it’s better not to be with someone that I could really care about. _

“I will spend the rest of my life keeping her away from you,” he promised.

“She will never be alone as long as I’m alive,” he taunted, gesturing with his free arm to the sad excuse for a life he was trying to build for a family he’d ever deserve. Oliver knew that he was right. He was never going to leave them alone. If he left town, he’d come back. Suddenly, his limited options narrowed down to one, despite his promise, despite giving his word to Felicity… there was only one thing he could do. 

_ I do know two things… you are not alone…  _

“You won’t be alive for much longer.”

_ … and I believe you in you. _

Darren’s lips lifted into a smirk, not at all dissuaded by Oliver’s threat. “There’s a good way to shut a woman up, though, isn’t there? I bet you know all about it.”

“Stop it.”

“Put something in her mouth,” he declared. “Genius!”

_ Uh oh. You got angry face.  _

The bow dropped to the ground, and Oliver gripped only the arrow that formerly resided in it. Without a care of the gun in Darren’s hand, he gripped him at the collar of his jacket with the tip of the arrow pressed firmly into the underside of his jaw.“You sonofabitch-”

“Do it, kill me,” he dared him through his maniacal laughter. “Kill the father of her child. See how much she loves you then. See how much she loves you when you’re covered in the blood of the man she loves.”

_ Do you have any happy stories? _

“She doesn’t love you,” Oliver snapped at him. 

“I could make her perfect,” he offered. “I could make my baby perfect.”

The raging blood that coursed through his veins chilled with a single sentence. He wondered if this is what his mother had spoke of when she’d told him that a parent would do whatever it took to protect their child. 

“You’ll never get near that baby,” he threatened, in a tone so low the modulator almost struggled with it. 

“Kids learn quickly,” Darren shrugged. “She should have learned more, but her Mom made her Dad leave. But kids… kids will accept anything you tell them is love. Anything can be a secret.”

He felt sick, his hands shaking as they shifted from Darren’s collar to his throat. “ _ Stop _ .”

“The best Daddies have wonderful secrets,” he whispered in a sing-song tone. “Secrets that you can never tell Mommy.”

He snapped, thrusting the arrow in his hand through the sinews of Darren’s shoulder. While the man howled in agony, Oliver delighted in it. He couldn’t take away the suffering that Felicity had endured, nor could he erase the scars that this monster had left on her body, but this child - his child, would never see pain. His child would never encounter this beast who only sought to abuse them. 

“These are your last words,” Oliver growled, as his scream let up into a whimper of pain. “Make them count.”

“Because kids love their Mommy,” Darren continued, the agony in his eyes the only sign that the injury had registered. “No one wants Mommy to get hurt.”

A second arrow was shoved roughly between two of Darren’s ribs, a sickening gasp signalling the damage it had done. This, Oliver knew. He knew what would hurt, he had been trained in it, he had experienced it, but never again would Felicity experience such pain - never would her child, their child, have to suffer it. 

“Never again will you hurt her,” Oliver swore, as Darren’s pain gave way to laughter, blood spitting out from his lips and onto Oliver’s face.

“I don’t have to. You’re going to hurt her all on your own.”

And before he could speak one more venomous word, Oliver’s arm tensed and a third arrow was impaled through his throat. 

He stared at Darren’s body as his shaking hands released it to the ground. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt such bloodlust. This was not just an act of protection for the good of his family. When the final arrow met its target, it was guided by his rage and primal desire to kill, not the bow it was intended to part from. He’d wanted Darren dead since he’d first seen Felicity in pain, but now, now he’d needed him to die. He’d needed to face this psychopath and feel the life drain from him as his body fell into the filth of his decrepit life. 

_ You killed again and I am the one who put you into the position where you had to make that kind of choice. _

He wiped his blood-stained hands over his face, sizing up the body and staring at it. He couldn’t have the body found, so he assessed his options. He quickly decided on throwing the body into the Bay, but he couldn’t have him so easily identifiable. If he was traced back to Felicity, the Arrow’s involvement and Oliver’s public involvement with her would make too many stories come together, and he couldn’t risk that. He found Darren’s gun, and fired three rapid-succession shots into his face. He didn’t stop to look at the damage it had created, only set to work to cover up any sign he was there and sank the body into the bay.

He’d promised Felicity he wouldn’t kill him. He’d promised her that he’d run him out of town, that he wouldn’t place blood on their child, that he wouldn’t kill in their name. But what choice did he have? Darren had horrific intentions for her and for the baby, and he couldn’t risk him having the courage to come back to town and carry those out. Neither of them would ever truly be safe until he was gone.

_ You cannot die until you have suffered the same way  that I have suffered. Until you have known complete despair… and you will, I promise. _

  
  


**\----**

 

**  
** He felt each footstep echo as he descended the steps, the rubber of his boots thudding against each plank of metal until he could feel a level surface beneath his feet. He’d made his way back in a blur of anger and guilt. Anger lingered, though he’d hoped that Darren’s death would have made it easier to deal with. He’d been expecting his rage to flow out along with the blood, but it hadn’t. The final admissions from Darren had pulled the deepest of angers from the pit of stomach, and he could feel the emotions stirring dangerously in a way that they hadn’t since Slade. 

“Is that him? Is that Oliver?”

“It’s him.”

He heard Felicity’s question and Diggle’s affirmation, but he couldn’t respond. He could still feel the chilling confessions haunting him, slowing his movements and blinding him to everything around him. He didn’t see the flash of blonde hurtling towards him, didn’t see anything. He could only cast his eyes around the empty spaces as her slender hands closed over his cheeks, pulling him down to her. 

“Oliver… God, I was so worried, are you...is that your blood?” There was a tremor in her voice, the way that her hands stroked his cheeks became more purposeful than exploratory. “Are you--?”

“It’s not mine,” he muttered, still not seeing her as he stared down at the ground.

“What happened?” she asked him.

_ I broke my promise to you.  _

He swallowed, looking down at her stomach. That, he saw. The swell of life that was always in their centre, that, he saw. His hands hovered over it, circling the precious life without actually touching it. He didn’t feel worthy. He’d broken his promise. He’d placed a death on the hands of something innocent and pure, killed in this child’s name before it was even birthed. He’d broken his promise. “He can’t hurt you any more.”

_ No one can hurt you. Not now. _

_ I made sure of it. _

He could hear the frown in Felicity’s reply. “He’s gone?”

“He’s gone,” he muttered.

“Sit down,” she took the hands close to her stomach, leading him over to the medical table and waiting until he’d heaved himself up on it. Her hands moved up to his face, clearing the blood across his jaw to see if there was a source to it. “Let me see that.”

He pushed her hand away slightly, careful not to be too rough. “It’s nothing, Felicity. Let’s just go home,” he said quietly, his tone void of anything in place of the numbness that had taken over him.

“Stop it,” she whispered, using the hand on his jaw to direct him to her. “Look at me.”

While she had control over his face, his eyes remained on the ground. “I’m fine, Felicity.”

“Why won’t you look at me?” she asked him softly.

The emptiness within him gave way to Darren’s threats. He couldn’t look at her without seeing that half-shattered crib, the dirty sheets and the broken toys. If tonight had gone any different, if he hadn’t gotten to her outside in time, that was where she’d be right now. She’d be cold, she’d be scared, and who knew how long it would have taken him to find her in that bleak, desolate place. 

“Felicity…” he murmured, shaking his head and trying not to revel too much in the touch of her palm. Anything that soft was clearly nothing he deserved. “I had to do it.”

Her hand dropped away from him in understanding, just as his head rose to meet hers. He caught her look of horror just before she managed to hide it, swallowing the look down. “Is he dead?” she asked. “Oliver, did you kill him?”

_ Yes. And I’d do it again. I’d do it slowly so I could enjoy it, so I could make him suffer as much pain as he made you endure.  _

“He deserved it,” he muttered bitterly.

Her hands came up to her mouth. “Oliver, you promised-”

“I promised to keep you safe, Felicity!” he cried, gesturing firstly to her and then lower at her stomach. The anger he could no longer direct at Darren had a new target - his own defence. He hadn’t wanted to break his promise to Felicity, but the alternative was something he couldn’t consider. It was far more important that she was safe than Darren was alive. “I did what I had to do to protect my family. The things he did to you, the things he  _ wanted  _ to do to you...he doesn’t get to live, Felicity.” His outburst faded, and he shook his head. “He had his chance to leave town and he didn’t take it. There was no other alternative.”

He saw the words fly to her lips before she spoke them. “It wasn’t that ba-”

“Don’t,” he whispered. His head shook once as he watched her. “Don’t you  _ dare  _ tell me that what he did to you wasn’t that bad.”

_ It was horrific. _

_ It was unnatural. _

_ How can you survive that and still smile at me? _

_ How can anyone survive that kind of Hell? _

She took a step back towards him, still not within reach but close enough that he could be sure she wasn’t about to leave. “He could have killed you, Oliver.”

The words caught in his chest - she’d been worried about death, and he’d been fearing something far worse. “That was a better fate than what he was going to do to you,” he choked out. 

She frowned, coming back to stand before him. With his legs parted, she fit easily into the cradle they created. “What did he say to you?” she asked. 

_ He wanted to hurt you. _

_ He abused you for wanting to be with me. _

_ He wanted to abuse your child. _

_ Our child. _

_ He wanted to do unspeakable things to you and our baby. _

_ He wanted to destroy the two most beautiful parts of my life.  _

“No,” he shook his head, fighting back the dangerous level of emotion that stirred within him as he thought about those words. “I can’t.”

“Oliver, look at me,” she whispered, placing her hands back on his cheeks. This time he indulged, closing his eyes as he pressed down into her open palms and felt her warmth melting at the icy storm he felt beneath his skin.”Whatever he said, it can’t happen. You would never have let him do that to me.”

He turned his face slightly, placing a firm kiss into her palm. “Felicity… he wasn’t just going to hurt  _ you _ .”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said her voice tightening despite her disregard. “It can’t happen.”

_ But it can.  _

_ Because of the life that I lead. _

_ You’ll never be truly safe. _

_ How can I be a good father if I already know the danger this child might be in? _

_ Because of me. _

His hands came up to cover hers, the burning behind his eyelids threatening what little remained of his self control. “The things he was going to do to you...to the baby, to  _ our  _ baby, Felicity…”

She cut him off with her lips covering his. He tried to ignore the blood of her ex-partner still beneath his fingertips, but it made him long for her touch all the more. He needed to feel her. He needed to know that she was here, with him, alive, and that Darren wasn’t. She’d never see the horrors that he had waiting for her. He may have broken his promise to her but it meant that she wouldn’t have to be taken to that awful place, that her child would never go there, and the child they were raising would have a good, safe, healthy life. “It’s over,” she whispered against his lips when they parted.

_ He won’t hurt you again. _

_ He won’t ever lay eyes on this baby. _

_ He’ll never lay his hands on it. _

_ I told you that night in the hospital that I was going to get you away from all of this. _

“Felicity…” he breathed, his hands coming to rest around the small of her back. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” she assured him. “You’re keeping us safe. We’re safe now.”

He swallowed, almost dipping in for a kiss but he didn’t feel he deserved it. Instead, he inhaled shakily and tightened his fingers in her skin. “The night of the undertaking… I disappeared and he…” he broke off, the tears now teasing at the corners of his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

Her breath hitched in a way that almost shattered him. He watched the recognition of what he was referring to shift from anguish, to horror, and settle in a pained expression that flooded her face with shame. She tried to swallow, but with her tight throat it came out as a grimace, one that tugged at his stomach and had him reaching for her again, raising his hands up to cup her face. 

“It’s not your fault,” she whispered.

_ It is my fault.  _

_ He destroyed you for searching for me. _

_ If I hadn’t left… _

_ If I had stayed... _

He shook his head, because her words didn’t reach his heart. He didn’t believe them. Because they both knew that what had perhaps been Darren’s worst act towards her had occurred because she had been searching for Oliver. Because he had been so lost in his own grief that he hadn’t given a single consideration to the woman he was falling for, putting so much distance between them to keep her safe from him, and he’d left her free to fall into the arms of a monster.

“I never wanted you to be hurt because of me, and he--- because of me…”

_ Did you call out for me? _

_ Did you beg for me to help you? _

_ When he was hurting you, did it make you hate me? _

_ Or did you imagine me holding you, telling you it would be okay? _

_ Did you cry out for me? _

_ Did that make it worse? _

“Stop it,” she said, shaking her head as the tears hit her cheeks. “I’m with you now. He can’t hurt me anymore,” she reminded him, the acknowledgement slipping out with a relieved sigh. 

He drew her right into the cradle of his legs. It was a perfect distance for him to close his legs against her hipbones with her bump protected by their arms. When she was as close as he could get her, he pressed his forehead to hers, leaning in to kiss her before he focused his hands on tracing circles into the base of her no-doubt aching spine. “You are perfect, you know that, don’t you?” he checked.

“Oliver…” she started, as if to argue with him, but he shook his head.

_ You’re beautiful. _

_ You’re funny. _

_ You’re radiant. _

_ You’re kind. _

_ You’re everything. _

“He didn’t have to make you perfect,” he murmured. “You’ve always been perfect.”

“I don’t have to be perfect,” she actually sobbed out, a single sound of disbelief and acceptance he hadn’t heard from her before. “You said that.”

“You’re so perfect,” he assured her, pulling back just so she could see that he meant it. He drew one hand away from her back so that he could trace it up her jaw and up through her hair. “I should have told you that sooner. If I hadn’t been so selfish, you could have been safe.”

“I’m safe now,” she pointed out. “I’m with you.”

“Felicity…” he breathed out, his shoulders sagging with the weight of her words.

Her arms circled his neck, cementing them together as she buried her face into his neck. It took him a moment to respond before he was losing himself in the mass of her blonde locks, inhaling deeply as she repeated her affirmation. “I’m with you. I’m right here.”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t see this,” he spoke into her hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop it.”

“Oliver, it’s okay…”

“No, it’s  _ not  _ okay,” he told her, holding her a little tighter, a little closer. “You are the most important person in my life. The idea that someone hurt you...knowing what he did to you, Felicity…” he couldn’t put it into words again. She’d seen him at his very worst, but he couldn’t vocalise just how much rage and despair he’d felt that evening.

“It’s not going to happen again, Oliver,” she reminded him.

_ It’s never going to happen again. _

_ You’re with me now. You’re mine.  _

_ I will spend the rest of my days ensuring you are safe, happy and loved. _

He breathed out into her hair, kissing whichever area of her scalp lay beneath it. From the shiver he felt run through her, he guessed it was close to the spot behind her ear that he’d taken a recent liking to. “I promise you that the...that  _ our  _ baby will never have to be afraid of this,” he swore, urging her a little closer if he could so that he could feel her stomach pressed up against his own. “Our baby will have better. I promise you.”

_ I will be a good father. _

_ I don’t know how to do that, but I will be better than he would have been. _

_ I will learn how to be what our child deserves. _

_ I have never wanted for anything as much as I want this with you.  _

“I know,” she whispered, dropping her hand down to her bump. “I believe you.”

“I will never,  _ never  _ let anyone hurt you again, Felicity.”

She drew back from him a little, holding her palm open to him. “Give me your hand…” she whispered

He slid his hand into hers, a look of confusion crossing his face. “What are you-?”

Felicity brought his hand up to her chest, uncurling his fingers and placing it over her ribcage. “Feel my heart?” she asked him.

“Yeah,” he nodded, focusing hard on the steady thud beneath his fingertips.

“Now give me your other hand,” she said. This time there was no confusion. It was longer before his hand settled, but she’d gotten good at working out the baby’s position lately. She felt around until it kicked at her side, and by finding its feet she felt around for the head, and placed his hand in the space in the centre, right over the unborn child’s torso. “There...my heart, baby’s heart,” she told him, closing her hands over each of his. “Both still here. Both for you.”

_ This is it. My family. _

_ I love you both. So much. Can you see that? _

_ Can I ever help you see that enough?  _

_ Do you know how long I’ve waited to call you my family? _

The emotion welled in his eyes once again, and this time he didn’t fight it away. “Felicity…”

“We’re still here because of you,” she reminded him with a shaky breath. “If you hadn’t come through for us that night, we might not be here.” The mere idea made both his hands flex, a silent assurance to himself that this wasn’t the case. They were both safe, both alive, both thriving. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you an opportunity to help us sooner, but you saved us, Oliver. We’re here because of you. We’re here  _ with  _ you. Both of these hearts beat for you now.”

He moved both his hands to her cheeks, drawing her back to his lips. Because he needed her, he longed for her. For so long he could have held this beautiful, remarkable, perfect woman in his embrace, and no longer would he shy himself away from her. No longer would he deprive himself from any part of her in hopes of keeping her a little safer. When he slanted his lips over hers, he swore that he wouldn’t ever step backwards, that from that moment on, they would only take steps forward, hand in hand, together. 

“I should have loved you from the beginning,” he muttered when they parted. “With my whole heart, like you deserved.”

_ I never thought I deserved you. _

_ I never dreamed you’d love me back. _

_ I never imagined I’d be lucky enough to find home and family like you’ve given me.  _

“You did. You always loved me,” she whispered, giving him a watery smile that made him glad he was already seated. “Now you get to show me.”

He tucked her hair back behind her ear. “Felicity…”

“We need to go home, Oliver,” she decided. Because you need a shower, and I need to cry, because even after everything, I never really imagined that this would ever be over, and now it is and…”

He slipped his hands into hers, and eased up to his feet. 

“Let’s go home. Together.”

\-----

 

He bolted awake to Darren’s sickening laughter and the sound of a baby screaming. His heart was racing as if he’d woken on the island, and he almost anticipated a clap of thunder to follow his awakening given the cold sweat that covered his upper body. He clenched his hands into fists, tightening them around soft sheets that slowly drew him back, and in searching for the origins of the babies cries, they faded back into the back of his lingering nightmare when the sight of the pregnant woman beside him came into view. 

Felicity slept on with no indication of waking. He’d gotten far too good at hiding his nightmares through the years, and she was a heavy sleeper at best, even more so after an exhausting night such as that night had been. As she slept, rolled on her side facing him with a pillow beneath her stomach, she cupped one hand around her bump, cradling her unborn child the best way she could until it was born.

Seeing her stomach, he knew his nightmare was merely that - a non-existent fear that preyed on his resting mind after Darren’s threats. He hadn’t been able to tell Felicity the full extent of what had been said, but given the expression on his face when they’d spoken earlier, she hadn’t pressed him to elaborate anything. At first, he was gentle in his reassurance, sliding his own calloused palm over her stomach, sliding her pyjama top over her exposed swell, but it wasn’t enough. He’d hoped that feeling the baby moving within her would settle his racing heart, but there was no movement beneath his palm and he moved closer.

Crossing his legs, allowing the sheet to fall away from him, he leaned over her stomach. He curled the remaining fabric up towards her chest, exposing the full bump before he gently placed his hands on either side - one at the top and one at the bottom - without disturbing the cradle of Felicity’s loose hand. Lowering his head, he checked that she was still asleep before he touched his lips against her stomach. 

“I...I’m sorry,” he whispered into her skin, shutting his eyes firmly. “I’m sorry… you’re being still, I think you’re sleeping. You must be sleeping because you’re momma’s sleeping, so I’m sorry to wake you up but I just...need to feel you for a second. I need to know you’re okay in there.”

A small, barely-there press into his left palm let a rush of air release from his lips, dusting over Felicity’s stretched skin. The assurance was enough, and he stroked his fingers over the space where her skin had just risen. 

“When you’re here, when I can hold you, I promise you’ll never have to be scared of anything,” he whispered to her stomach. He’d listened to Felicity speaking to her bump a number of times before - sometimes she knew he was there, sometimes she didn’t - but this was the first time he’d done it when she wasn’t aware. He needed this, though. He needed the baby to know that he wouldn’t allow anything that Darren had threatened to come to life, and waiting until the baby was in his arms was too far away. 

“I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life, but I swear I’ll never do anything bad to you. I’ll never make you afraid of me. I’m going to be a good father to you, I promise. I’m not sure how, but I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re happy, and healthy, and safe… you and your mother. Because the man who made you is a monster, and you deserve the whole world. You deserve to be loved and cherished and to enjoy your life, and I couldn’t stand the idea of someone raising you who couldn’t give that to you. If you’re even one percent of your mother, then I want to love you. I do love you. You’re going to be mine and I love you, no matter what. I don’t care if you make me mad, or if you break things, or if you have the biggest damn tantrum in the middle of the supermarket. I don’t  _ care _ , I won’t ever hurt you.”

He wasn’t aware of the tears on his cheeks until he tried to inhale and his throat burned. “I will never,  _ ever  _ do the things that the monster would have done to you” he swore firmly. “You will be perfect just by being here. We’ve been waiting a long time to meet you, and your Mom’s going to be perfect at everything because she’s smart, and wonderful, and all the reasons I love you are all the reasons that she’s going to be the best mother you could ever want. And I will learn to be that good. She’ll show me. She made me a good man, she can make me a good father for you. Whatever it takes, I promise you that… I love you so much. So, so much. Our lives will be better because of you… We’ve been lost for so many years, but we’re going to be okay...because we’ll find ourselves in you.”

“Oliver…” he heard her whisper from his side, the cradling hand slipping between his fingertips and grasping it tightly. 

He raised his eyes to hers, allowing her to see the devastation on her face, the sheer defeat to his own emotions and he shook his head. “I’m so sorry…” he whispered.

“Come here…” she replied quietly, her voice gentle in the early hours of the morning. “Come up here,” she encouraged him when he didn’t move immediately.

He untangled himself from the sheet and drew away from her bump. She didn’t stop tugging gently at his hands until he was laying with his head tucked beneath her chin, his forehead pressed to the reassuring thump of her pulse. With one arm embracing him, she joined their hands and pressed them back against the baby, who shifted within her and drew a wince from Felicity before all three settled once again.

Oliver stroked his thumb over the bump. “I’ll be a good father, I promise. I won’t ever hurt them.”

“I know,” she whispered, her voice breezing through his hair. “It’s okay. Just close your eyes.”

“Felicity, I-” he choked, but she cut him off with a firm kiss to the top of his head. 

“Close your eyes, think of nice things. I love you.”

Her gentle tone made him sigh, and his lips touched her collarbone several times before his throat relaxed enough to allow him to speak. “Love you. I...so much.”

“I know. Get some sleep,” she murmured. “I’m right here.”

And finally, without threat or lurking danger, they did.


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

“Miss Smoak, long time no see.”

She almost jumped between the chirping voice and the rush of steam that the barista ahead of her slipped out. She’d been in the queue so long that she was almost considering losing her place to duck out to the bathroom, but she was close enough that she thought she could risk it.

When she turned, she was pleasantly surprised to see Quentin Lance at her side. Her face broke into a smile; it had been so long since she’d seen him properly, despite small encounters through the last few months.

“Detecti--Captain Lance,” she grinned at him. “How are you?”

“I’m good, you look about ready to pop?” he asked, nodding down at her stomach.

She followed his gaze, putting her hand over the bump that she couldn’t even fasten her coat around now. “I feel like it too.”

“How long to go?” he enquired. 

“Three weeks,” she said, visibly crossing her fingers. “Can’t wait to see my feet again.”

Lance met her laugh with a glance at the coffee shop. “Strange to see you out and about on your own,” he noted, an unvoiced question lingering between them.

“Oliver’s meeting with his step dad. Ex-step-dad? Do you stop being a step-dad when the mother dies? I never understood that. Anyway, he’s meeting Mr. Steele,” she explained in a rush. Walter had reached out to him a few weeks ago, since the takeover of Queen Consolidated had started moving along with further investors looking to get in. Oliver had been worried about it, but figured that Walter was best placed to give him advice for the company, so Felicity had made herself scarce for an hour and come to get some hot chocolate before she met up with him. 

Lanced raised his eyebrow. “You and Queen, huh?”

“Yeah, that...happened,” she said, biting her lip to contain her smile.

“He taking care of you?” he checked.

She put her hand over her stomach. “Yes, he’s taking good care of us,” she assured him.

“Good,” he said, his voice gruff despite his smile. “I don’t need another reason to kick his ass.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Felicity said, lowering her voice. “I have it on good authority that he’ll be changing diapers soon. 

Lance laughed, indicating down to her stomach. “If there’s any justice in the world, he’ll have daughters.”

“I guess we’ll see soon enough,” she said brightly, excited to finally know whether she was having a boy or a girl. “How’s work?” she asked.

“Busy,” he sighed. “Been running around with the Bay murder.”

She frowned. “What Bay murder?” she asked, keeping her voice quiet. 

“We pulled a body out of Starling Bay last week,” Lance told her. “Guy in his mid-thirties, rap sheet longer than your arm. We thought our mutual friend might have had something to do with it.”

A flash of panic ran through her, which she hoped wasn’t visible on her face. “What makes you think that?” she asked.

“The three arrows in him.”

“Oh,” she whispered. Oliver had never told her exactly what had happened between him and Darren. She’d worked out from his reactions, and the way he’d watched her for days afterwards, that Darren had revealed some of the more painful memories that she’d rather have kept to herself, but he hadn’t pushed her for more details, and it had certainly helped to have him hold her a little tighter, a little closer.

“Know anything about it?” Lance asked curiously.

She forced a smile to her lips, pointing at her stomach again. “Sorry, I’m not really much of an asset at the moment.”

Lanced hummed as if he accepted this, but then he turned his attention to the board of coffee options above their heads. “From what we can tell, the guy deserved it,” he shrugged. “Once we looked into him, we found some pretty grisly stuff. He’s got assault charges going back to his college years. Of course, it took a while to find after the rape case. We think he had a girlfriend.”

“Oh?” she stammered out.

She’d never known. She hadn’t found anything when she looked into Darren, certainly no criminal activity, but if he’d changed his identity...a rape case...college years… repeat convictions. She fought hard to keep her reactions under check. She’d been lucky to get away when she did.

“His phone was found nearby,” Lance told her. “Our guys hacked it and found some messages.”

Her eyes widened briefly, and she turned away to pick up a small leaflet advertising a local band she’d never heard of to cover it. “Oh. Poor girl,” she muttered quietly.

“Whoever she was, she must be important to our mutual friend,” Lance said casually, turning back to her. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a guy missing half his face.”

Felicity swallowed, shrugging slightly. “I’m sure he had his reasons.”

“Maybe he’s turning into a hero, after all.”

A more genuine smile crossed her features. “Don’t let him hear you say that, Captain.”

“Well, if you do speak to him, let him know that we had his back on this one,” he explained.

“What do you mean?” she frowned.

“If it were one of my daughters, I’d have done the same thing,” Lance pointed out. “But I would have done a better job at getting rid of the body,” he lowered his tone as not to attract any attention around them.

Her mind cast back to the expression on Oliver’s face when he had returned from dealing with Darren. “He wasn’t in the right frame of mind...I imagine.”

“He must really care about the girl.”

“Yeah, he must,” she murmured.

His tone lightened. “At least she’s got nothing to worry about now. Especially with the Vigilante looking out for her.”

“She’s a lucky girl,” Felicity nodded, before she bit at her lip. “It’s a shame...what happened to her.”

“I think she’ll be just fine,” Lance said, and then he was watching her with a far too knowing expression. She suddenly got the feeling that he knew far too much about their mutual friend than Oliver would like, and that their meeting there wasn’t accidental. “She’s strong.”

“What makes you think that?” she swallowed.

“Got a feeling,” he told her with a softness in his tone before he touched her elbow. “Anyway, I won’t keep you from your order. If I don’t see you before, good luck for the birth.”

“Thank you,” she grimaced. “I’ll be needing it.”

He moved to the door, turning back at the last minute and calling back to her. “And let me know if you have a boy or a girl. A few of the detectives and I are having a bet.”

 

\--

 

Felicity was only a few steps out of the coffee shop when she almost walked directly into Oliver, who was just slipping something into his pocket as he looked over her shoulder. “Hey, I got hot chocolate,” she said, passing one into his hand. 

“Was that Lance?” he asked, still looking past her.

“Yeah,” she said, slipping her free hand into his as they started walking in the opposite direction. “Did you know they’re having bets on the sex of the baby down at the precinct?” she asked.

He let out a burst of laughter. “Really?”

“Yeah, he said if there’s any justice in the world you’ll have daughters,” she added.

Oliver’s face blanched dramatically for a moment. “I know, I’ve been worried about that.”

“Liar,” she teased, nudging him with her shoulder. “How was Walter?”

“Good,” he mused with a smile. “Really good.”

“What was his big thing he wanted to talk to you about?” she asked curiously.

“He wanted to give me my mother’s ring.”

She stopped walking, his hand snagging on hers as she stared at him, jaw gaping in shock. “What?” she asked, as he tugged on her hand to get her to start walking again.

“Yep,” he chirped in a way that was more characteristic of her. “There’s a very expensive engagement ring in my pocket right now.”

Her eyes widened. “How expensive?”

“Two million dollars.”

That had, in hindsight, been a terrible time to try and take a sip of her hot chocolate. “Holy frack.”

“That was my reaction too,” he agreed with a small huff of laughter.

She managed to wipe the spilled drink off her chin with the sleeve of her coat, and tried to process his revelation calmly. “At least if we get mugged on our way home we’ll have something to trade for our lives,” she suggested. 

Oliver merely hummed in response. “I was thinking I might do something else with it.”

“Like what?” she asked.

“Give it to you.”

She turned mid-step, pointing her cup at him. “No.”

“No?” he questioned.

“No,” she repeated with a warning look on her face. “Don’t propose to me while I’m fat as hell with half a hot chocolate on my face.”

“I wasn’t going to,” he assured her, swinging her arm slightly. 

“Oh,” she said, only half-comforted by that fact.

“It’s for someday, when we’re ready,” he continued.

She was quiet for a moment while they carried on walking. “Do you think we’re not ready?” she asked doubtfully.

Oliver looked thoughtful. “We’re about to have a baby, we don’t have to rush everything at one time,” he told her. “I think one day, we’ll know. Well, I’ll know, I suppose it’s meant to be a surprise for you.”

“How will we know?” she asked.

“I’m not sure, I’ve never proposed to anyone before,” he pointed out with a smile.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You’ve never had a baby with anyone before either, but you jumped headfirst into that one.”

He laughed before he nodded. “I knew I was ready for that.”

“How did you know?”

“Because it’s you,” he pointed out. “I’d do anything if you asked me to do it.”

“What if I asked you to marry me?” she challenged him.

He drew his hand away from hers, taking the ring out of his pocket and admiring it. It was beautiful, she couldn’t deny that - after all, it was Moira Queen’s ring, and she had no doubt that it was worth more than anything Felicity would own monetarily in her lifetime. Oliver, however, held it outwards with an awkward expression on his face. “Not sure how this ring would look on my finger....”

Felicity smacked her hand against his arm as they both laughed. “Stop being a weirdo,” she chided him as he put the ring away.

“I’m your weirdo,” he pointed out, looping his arm around her shoulders.

“Mmm, guess I’m stuck with you now,” she mused.  Even Lance approves.”

Oliver scoffed at the idea. “Lance doesn’t approve of anything when it comes to me.”

“He thinks it’ll be some nice karma if you have many, many daughters,” she reminded him.

“And what do you think about many, many daughters?” he asked her curiously.

“Absolutely not,” she insisted quickly.

He frowned somewhat as he dipped his head towards her. “You don’t want a big family?” he asked.

“I don’t mind a big family, but that many daughters? No thank you,” she shook her head. “What happens when they’re teenagers? Teenage girls are  _ horrible _ , Oliver. I didn’t like teenage girls when I  _ was  _ a teenage girl.”

He laughed, the concern slipping from his features. “Looks like we’d better have all boys then.”

That was a far less terrifying thought to her, and she watched his content face out of the corner of her eye with a smile. “You’ve got your heart set on a big family?”

“I honestly want you to have a thousand of my babies,” he told her.

“I’m not sure that’s biologically possible,” she pointed out. “I’d be on my back the whole time.”

He shot her a smirk. “I can arrange that.”

She nudged him again. “Stop sexing me up when I’m holding liquidised chocolate,” she warned him. “I will always choose the chocolate.”

“Felicity?”

“Yeah?”

“Want to play a game?”

 

\-----

 

The day that Oliver came home with a bouquet of expensive roses and greeted her with a large kiss as he found her leaving the bathroom, she knew that he’d finally found a string of good luck. Despite other investors and proposals for the company, he came home with a broad smile and the announcement that his family company was back under his control. They’d celebrated that night by going out for dinner, no longer afraid of who they might run into, and realised that there was finally nothing in the way of their happiness. Darren was gone, the baby was coming, they were entirely committed to one another, and there was nothing trying to dismantle that.

But Oliver wasn’t the only one who wanted to celebrate him taking control of the company again. The board of trustees wanted to throw a gala for the charity of his choosing to show their support for the company being continued under the existing family name.

Which lead to Felicity trying to find a maternity gown that was suitable for being at the side of the CEO of Queen Consolidated. 

She ended up meeting Oliver at the gala, with Diggle having driven her after he was caught up in meetings and press conferences throughout the afternoon. She was nervous about arriving on her own - the previous executive assistant now very pregnant and very obviously in a relationship with the CEO - but she used to love the fancy events and a chance to get dressed up.

She especially loved the way Oliver’s jaw went slack mid-conversation with one of the trustees and he excused himself to greet her when she walked in.

She’d gone for a modest dusky pink dress, one that accentuated all her new curves without being too tight. She’d felt incredibly attractive when she stood before the mirror earlier that night with her hair swept up atop her head, exposing the curve of her neck and the necklace that Oliver had given her for the holidays, and judging from the heated yet adoring look Oliver was giving her as he approached her and placed his hand on her stomach and kissed her cheek, he agreed.

“You look absolutely breathtaking,” he murmured into her ear before he pulled back.

She responded by leaning up for a proper kiss, dangerous in such a crowd but they kept it chaste until she pulled back, running her hand over the lapel of his jacket. “I have missed you in these suits.”

“Yeah?” he asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Many fantasies,” she confirmed with a sly smile.

He grinned at her. “I want to hear all about them later, but…” he trailed off with an apologetic look. “Unfortunately, your plan of hiding in the corner half the evening has been foiled. A lot of people want to meet you officially.”

Her eyebrows rose curiously. “Why?”

“Because I did something today,” he said innocently, sweeping her arm in his as he lead her over to the trustees who waved them over.

“What did you do?” she asked, disguising her question through her smile.

“I signed over half my shares to you.”

She paused in her step, tugging him back to her before she could be accosted into conversation. “You did what?”

He frowned slightly. “Is that not a good thing?”

“It’s a  _ huge _ thing,” she pointed out. “Half of your shares, Oliver that’s-”

“Half of the company, I know.”

He was looking at her as if he’d merely changed their restaurant reservations, not signed over half of his net worth into her name. “Oliver, please tell me you understand what you’ve done.”

“I do,” he smiled at her. “Actually, we don’t own half of each of our shares,” he went on to explain. “I own twenty-five percent of them, you own twenty-five percent of them, and we each hold another twenty-five percent each in trust.”

It took her a few moments to catch up before she narrowed her eyes in confusion. “In trust for who?”

“For our baby, of course,” he stated simply. 

“Oliver-”

“Felicity,” he stopped her, taking both her hands in his own. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t even be here tonight. I wouldn’t have my family business back… and you once told me that you can’t take a family business back without your family.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“I know what you meant,” he assured her lightly. “But I also know what I want. I want this to be a family business. You were far better at knowing what this company should be doing than I ever was, and I want this to be a legacy again. Doing this means that no matter what happens financially, we can afford to send this child - and any other children - to whatever college they want to go to, no questions asked. It’s a security for this baby that we didn’t have before, and I want that for them,” he smiled. “Besides,” he added with a shyer smile. “The winning point of my proposal was that I planned to expand and invest in the Applied Sciences division.”

Her eyebrows knotted together. “But you don’t know anything about that department,” she pointed out.

“That’s right,” he agreed with a small laugh. “Which is why I’m hoping you’re still planning on coming back to work after the baby’s old enough.”

Wait.

What?

She wasn’t quite sure when she threw herself at him, whether she was holding him before she was kissing him, or the other way around, but his arms wrapped around her and met her clash of lips even with the mass of people around them. Because their child would never have to work three jobs to afford college, like she had, or worry about whether they could afford books and dinner at the same time. Because he’d given her a goddamn department to run.

“Is this a good reaction?” Oliver checked, as she stepped up afterwards and wiped a trace of her lipstick off the corner of his mouth.

“Remember that shiny little thing that Walter gave you?” she hinted.

He just grinned, his hip shifting ever so slightly. She wondered if he had it in his pocket. 

“I’m going to say yes,” she assured him.

Oliver looked at her as if his heart was about to burst, one hand tracing over her stomach as he leaned down a little and dropped his voice to her stomach. “See, our evil plan is working, she’ll be all ours soon,” he whispered conspiratorially.

A camera flash in the distance didn’t disturb them, but tomorrow’s newspapers would be adorned with the resurrection of the Queen family, and picture of Felicity grinning as Oliver leaned down to her bump.

**\-----**

 

She’d been moving about all day, and it was starting to make Oliver nervous. Her due date was sneaking up on them faster than they could prepare for, and it felt like their days were filled with refolding baby clothes, buying extra packs of diapers in case they really didn’t have enough, and re-packing the two emergency hospital bags they had - one at home, and one at the foundry. They felt so prepared for the entire experience - but then Felicity had started rubbing her lower back with a frown just before lunch and Oliver suddenly realised how unprepared he was. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to call your doctor?” he checked for the umpteenth time as he stirred the tea she’d asked for. 

“I’m just uncomfortable. It happens,” she assured him. 

He sighed with an air of impatience as he approached her, leaning over the back of the couch to pass the mug to her which she took with a muttered ‘thanks’ before his hands were gripping the back of the cushions. “What if it’s... _ time _ ?” he suggested.

She fixed him with a look. “I don’t think I’m in labour, Oliver.”

“It says in the book that discomfort in your back-”

“I know, but my water hasn’t broken yet, and if these pains are contractions then they’re small, and they’re at least thirty minutes apart,” she told him as well-versed in the ‘what to expect’ literature as he was after the night he’d tried to crash-read the paperback while she’d downloaded the digital version onto her tablet. “If we called the doctor now, she’d only tell us to wait,” she reminded him.

“But-”

“Relax, come here…” she eased, holding one hand out to him.

He allowed her to guide him around the head of the couch and into the space behind her. Careful of the mug, she leaned back into his arms, relaxing in his embrace. “I’m just...nervous,” he confessed, tapping his thumb against the side of her stomach. Resting his hand their as they lay together was second nature now. 

“If it’s time, it’s time,” she said, closing one hand over his. “Why don’t we just have a night to ourselves?” she suggested.

He dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “I thought that was the plan.”

“But this might be the last night it’s just the two of us,” she pointed out.

All the breath left his body in one single exhale. “Wow, that’s…”

“I know, right,” she swallowed. “Scary.”

If this was really the start of labour, it would be their last baby free night. By tomorrow evening they might be in the hospital, and after that, he or she would be here at last - not just a new beginning, but an end to the unusual journey that had begun their family. “So, our potential last baby-free night, what do you want to do?” he said with a deep breath. 

She tilted her head up to meet his eyes. “Laze about on the couch and eat ice cream?”

He nodded, reaching for the remote and placing it in her free hand. “My thoughts exactly.”

\---

“Oliver.”

He startled awake quickly at her voice, his hand shooting out to the place she should be, but falling instead upon a still-warm sheet. When he pushed up, he saw her sat on the very edge of the bed with her back to him, one hand holding the mattress. He was up in moments, wide awake as he climbed over the bed and knelt down before her.

“What is it?” he asked, noting the white knuckles on the hand gripping the edge of the bed and her other hand placed wide around her large stomach. 

“I think I’m having proper contractions,” she winced, her voice tight and pinched.

Oh. 

_ Oh _ .

He swallowed, nodding with a quick breath. “Okay, how far apart?” he asked her calmly.

“I’m not sure, but it woke me up…” she explained, rushing her words as if she were trying to hold her breath. 

“Has your water--?”

“I think we’d know if I’d peed in the bed,” she cut him off in a rush, letting out a long breath afterwards with her eyes closed. 

“It’s not pee,” he reminded her. 

“No, it hasn’t happened,” she mumbled, taking a few breaths. 

He uncurled her fingers from the bed and placed his own around them, his other hand touching her stomach until she was breathing a little calmer, and the pain had passed for the moment.

“Okay, why don’t we move to the couch,” he suggested softly “and then if anything happens we’re ready to go.”

She thought it over for a moment, looking to the door as if she were mapping out the route to the couch, and then she nodded. “Help me up?” she asked.

“I’m here,” he assured her, standing up and stooping to let her use his forearms for supper. “Got it?”

“Mmm, yeah, it hurts,” she groaned as they maneuvered her to her feet. 

“Alright, let’s go slow,” he encouraged her. 

It took a few minutes to get her out to the living area, taking each step slowly to encourage her to move around as much as possible but not to injure herself. He could tell from her movements alone that her back was in agony, he recognised that particular pinch in her eyes by now. They were almost to the couch when she bent a little at the waist, gripping the side arm of the couch with a small exclamation. “Oh.”

“Oh?” he questioned.

She looked down, and he followed her gaze down to see the pool of liquid soaking through her purple pyjama pants. “I think that was my water,” she swallowed thickly, sounding panicked for the first time. 

He ran his hand up her spine, stroking it a few times as he steadied there. “Alright, stay there, I’ll get you a change of clothes.”

“I haven’t got the bag,” she told him, looking to the corner by the door where it was kept. 

“Bag’s been in the car for three days,” he assured her. 

“Oh,” she whispered, biting her lip.

“So let’s get you ready, and we’ll go to the hospital,” he encourage her.

“Oliver…” she shot her hand out to grab his, and when he turned back to her he could see the very real fear in her eyes. 

“What is it?” he asked, bringing his hand to her cheek as he returned to her side.

“We’re going to have a  _ baby _ ,” she said, emphasising the word with a shaky breath.

“I know,” he smiled, kissing her forehead and letting her see the happiness on his face. “Are you excited?”

She swallowed, almost shaking her head with the movement. “I’m really scared now,” she choked. 

“I know. But this is the easiest part,” he reminded her, stroking his thumb over her cheek. “Now, you just get to sit back and let it happen.”

Her lip trembled as she drew it back between her teeth. “But then the baby will be here and everything’s going to change,” she whispered, looking away from him.

Oh, how it was going to change.

“Hey, look at me... “ he encouraged her, lowering one hand to his stomach. “This time tomorrow we’ll have a baby,” he reminded her.

“Yeah,” she nodded slowly.

“There’s nothing to be scared of,” he assured her. “I’ll be there the whole time.”

“Right, you will,” she continued to nod taking another deep breath.  

“Are you ready?” he asked her again.

She let out a groan, lowering her head as she felt another ripple of discomfort start to build. “No, but this baby’s coming one way or another.”

“Okay, wait here, I’ll get your clothes.”

\-----

 

If Felicity Smoak were ever to pinpoint the moment that felt most at peace, it was not the first time that she was alone in her M.I.T dorm room, or the first time she woke up happy in Oliver’s arms. It was the moment that her squirming, newborn baby boy was placed on her chest - skin to skin, lips to forehead, hands to wriggling fingers - and she felt a rush of love like no other.

Several times in the last two years, she’d tried to work out if certain things were worth surviving. She’d wondered if she had a limit she would reach where she’d give up. She often wondered, crying in a ball in Darren’s bed, why she hadn’t reached that limit, why she hadn’t given up hope. Then she’d gotten pregnant, gotten safe, but the plague of fear had continued. She wondered how she found it in herself to smile, to get out of bed in the morning, to even attempt to heal.

And then she held her son, felt her heart leave her chest and burst forward to give this tiny creature life. With a rush of emptiness where she’d carried him for eight-and-a-half months, he was lowered to the space above her breasts with a nurse cleaning him with a towel, and then he was there, he was screaming, and oh, God, he was so alive. 

And he was perfect.

He was beautiful, this slightly-blue, very messy little newborn that didn’t look at all like the babies television showed. But the rubbing of the towel quickly brought a pink tinge to his body that looked far healthier - and his hair! So much hair! It was dark from birth, not at all like his biological father’s bleach blonde, she didn’t even realise newborns could have that much hair. He had a small upturned nose, a tiny pair of rosebud lips, ten fingers, ten toes, four wriggling limbs that seemed all to reach for the safe enclosure of her body once more.

This was why she’d survived.

This was why she’d lived.

And as her arms closed around her tiny little saviour, she knew it had been worth every moment. 

\--

“It’s a boy!” Oliver grinned from her side, drawing her out of this bubble of perfection. She could only glance at him for a second - his tired eyes from the fourteen-hour labor he hadn’t missed a second of, his wide grin that almost matched her own - before she was back over her son. His head was right between them both, and as Oliver leaned over to press a kiss on the forehead of this new life, she trailed her finger over his parted, wailing lips.  

“Hi, baby…” she whispered, unaware until that moment of how hard she was crying. 

“He’s perfect,” Oliver gushed, unable to take his eyes off the screaming little boy. “He’s so perfect…”

Felicity settled her hand on her son’s torso, feeling each roaring breath he took with a warmth in her chest that she didn’t know how to handle. It was electrifying, solidifying, stronger than anything she’d ever felt. “Oh, my beautiful boy…” she exhaled, taking in each feature on this newborn's face.

Her baby.

Her son.

Her everything.

Oliver’s lips pressed a firm kiss to the side of her head, one arm sliding around her as she leaned into him. “You did so good, hon,” he praised. “So good.”

“He’s so little, Oliver….” she said, as if he may not have noticed just how fragile this life was. “He’s so beautiful.”

Oliver went to speak when a particularly loud wail interrupted him, but it brought a small laugh to each of them. “He’s certainly inherited your hatred of mornings…” Oliver noted.

“He’s worth being up all night for…” she nodded, before her head dipped a little, a rush of exhaustion hitting her that she hadn’t been prepared for. Was it adrenaline wearing off? Was it the strain of a tiresome labor catching up with her?

Oliver caught the shift straight away, steadying her under his arm. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I feel...weird,” she told him, as darkness tugged at the corner of her eyes and she tried to shake it off. Dizzy.”

“Felicity?”

Suddenly her baby didn’t feel so secure in her arms. She felt heavy and weak at the same time, and while she intended to hand the baby to Oliver she couldn’t be sure that she was moving. “Can you take him?” she asked, barely able to hear her own voice over the ringing in her ears. 

“What’s wrong with her?” Oliver asked, as a nurse came over to them. “What’s going on?”

“Oliver...take him,” she choked out quickly. “Take Lucas…”

“Lucas…” he repeated, testing out the name he’d only heard for the first time. 

“I don’t feel…” she whispered, before darkness claimed her and she could only hear the cry of her child behind Oliver’s plea. 

“Felicity!”

\----

 

“Felicity? Can you hear me?”

His voice was almost lost, not quite a whisper but certainly muffled and distant. She tried to move herself towards it, and with a squeeze on her hand she anchored herself to his grip. It was him. His hand, holding her, guiding her back from the fog. “Ol’ver…” She tried to call out, but it came as a mumble, but the next time he said her name it felt far stronger.

_ You’re strong, you can do this. That’s it. _

_ It’s a boy. _

_ Oh, my beautiful boy. _

She moved, lifting her upper body towards him but his hands on her and a deep ache between her legs made her stop, so she allowed him to lower her back down. 

“It’s okay, take it slow,” he whispered

Her head fell to the pillow again, and she blinked hard through the blur. “What happened?” she asked, her voice thick. 

“The doctors had some trouble stopping the bleeding after the baby was out,” Oliver explained. She turned her gaze up to him, seeing the deeper circles beneath his eyes, the still-pale tinge to his cheeks and the sheer relief that sagged most of his features against it. He swallowed as he tucked her hair back. “They had to take you into surgery.”

She reached her arm out, turning her head to the side. “Is he-”

“He’s okay. Lucas is fine,” he assured her, pointing to her other side. “He’s right here, he’s sleeping.”

She turned her head, and there he was. Her little boy. Sleeping soundly while swaddled in a thick, blue hospital blanket - over the top was a green blanket, snuggling the swaddled child loosely. It made her think of one of the first conversations they’d had about the baby.  _ Green for a boy.  _ Where had it come from? Had he brought it? They had gift shops in hospitals, right? Although she was pretty sure that everything was generic pink and blue or white…

But that wasn’t the point. The green made it real. That was her baby.  _ Their  _ baby, and he was right there, his tiny eyes closed, his chin squashed in from the blanket, and chubby cheeks reddened from his little breaths. There he was. This time, her head didn’t spin when she looked at him, but she felt an ache, a longing to have him pressed against her again, but she still felt weak, and she didn’t trust her barely-woken arms to lift him, certainly not if she’d had surgery. 

“Okay,” she murmured, dipping her hand into the plastic crib beside her, brushing her fingers over the green blanket. 

“You’re going to be fine,” Oliver assured her, a brush of her cheek drawing her attention back to him. “They want you to sleep it off through the night while you get a transfusion to get your strength back, and then we can all go home. How does that sound?”

She bit her lip slightly, glancing to the side then back at Oliver. She placed her hand directly over his, holding him to her in case he’d been considering taking his hands away. “Lucas is okay?” she checked once more. 

Oliver nodded, his thumb stroking against her lips. “Lucas is okay, he just missed you,” he assured. “We both did.”

Lucas was okay. Her baby was okay. She nodded weakly into the cradle of Oliver’s palm, resting fully against it as her eyes flickered closed for a moment. “I’m really tired…” she whispered.

“That’s normal, hon,” he assured her quietly. Tired, she supposed, was not the worst thing she’d felt over the course of the last year, and wasn’t even as hard to deal with as the labor had been. “You lost a lot of blood. You’ll feel better after you sleep.”

Her eyes trailed slowly back to her sleeping child. She couldn’t sleep through all of this - her baby was finally here, finally part of the world, able to cry, to demand, to be held - and she was his mother. She was supposed to be doing things for him. Hadn’t the books called this a crucial bonding moment? Wasn’t she supposed to be awake with her child, whatever he needed. “But if Lucas needs me…”

“He needs you to be healthy, Felicity,” Oliver urged. “Just get some sleep, we’ll be right here.”

We. Of course. She wasn’t alone. Lucas wasn’t alone. “You’ll be here if he wakes up?” she checked.

“I’ll be here when you  _ both  _ wake up,” he whispered, leaning down to place a kiss against her forehead. His cheek brushed against her as he rose after, and she was sure it felt a little damp. For as frightening as it had been as she’d faded, she hated to imagine how it had been for Oliver. “Hey, you did great today, okay?” he murmured.

“It hurt like hell,” she mumbled. “No more babies for a while.”

“Agreed,” Oliver breathed out with a huffed laugh. “That got scary near the end. I thought you were all done scaring me, Smoak.”

Truthfully? Yes, she was done. 

She was ready to be done with the scary part of her life. She was done being afraid of what came next, of being put down and made to feel undeserving of her own mind, her body, her spirit. She was done with fake smiles to deter questions, done with feeling unsafe in her own home. She was done with the association between love and pain. She was done feeling like a stranger to herself. She was done being anything less than she wanted to be.

And she was ready for more.

She was ready to be a mother; to lose herself in this tiny little life beside her and dedicate her entire being to him. She was ready to discover what it was like to place her heart outside of her chest and watch it grow into a being of her own creation. She was ready for morning cartoons, songs about counting and teaching tiny hands to write, to type, to draw, to explore. She was ready to be Mommy, to exist purely in a routine of diaper changes, night feeds and laundry loads. She was ready for hushed midnight songs and tiny hands grasping at her glasses.

She was ready to share that with Oliver. She was ready to be in a relationship that was based on respect, on admiration, on trust, and not on pain, suffering and oppression. She was ready to hear a key in the lock with a smile on her face, not a burst of panic. She was ready for the chorus of ‘I’m home’ to be met with a cry of ‘Daddy!’. She was ready for this man to love her, fully, wholly, as he had been waiting to do for a long time. She was ready to love him back, to remember how it felt to want to please a man for the simple act of seeing a smile on his face and love in his eyes, not to deter violence. 

She was ready for a family, and she had one within her grasp. She had a family of her own, a family that loved her, a little boy who needed her and a man who wanted her.

She was loved. Completely, entirely, unselfishly. 

“Oliver?” she whispered, turning her face into his palm with a slow, lazy kiss to the centre of it.

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad you were here with me,” she told him, finding his other hand with hers and knotting her fingers through his. 

Without removing his caress of her cheek, he lifted their joined hands to his lips. “Of course, where else would I be?” he murmured softly.

“I mean, for all of it,” she told him, her eyes slipping closed as she released a slow breath, exhaustion and sleep tugging her back into a void of darkness. “I’m glad you’re here.”

_ I’m glad you came for me. _

_ I’m glad you kept me safe. _

_ I’m glad we’re together. _

“Sleep, hon,” she whispered as she slipped into sleep. “Everything’s okay now”

\------

He had her eyes. Her chin. Her tiny little lips. Lucas was entirely his mother. Oliver had a good time to study the little boy as he gazed at the world around him - which currently settled entirely around Oliver himself. He knew that there was a good chance some of his features would look more like his biological father’s as he got older, but currently, he had his arms full of a tiny little Felicity clone and he was  _ beautiful.  _

He’d laid the baby down at Felicity’s side just after she’d fallen back asleep. He knew she wanted to be awake, to share these precious moments with Lucas, but she also needed to be healthy so that they could go home together and start to live their lives as a new family. Even sleeping, he hoped that the two of them could feel they were close together, but once the little boy became restless Oliver had walked him around the room, adjusting to the miniscule weight of the boy in his arms. 

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts shortly after Lucas fell asleep again, and a soft voice whispered into the room.“Hey, is it okay to come in?”

A sleek chestnut-haired girl peered in and no, no, this wasn’t a girl. This was a woman. A young woman in the place where his little sister was supposed to be. He’d spoken to her on the phone a few hours ago, but he hadn’t been expecting her to arrive that day given that she’d been caught at the airport.

“Thea, you made it…” he sighed out, overwhelmed at the sight of his sister after the long months without her. She’d missed so much, and now she was here at the start of a brand new life he was beginning.

Thea cast a glance at the bed where Felicity was fast asleep. “I can come back if she’s sleeping.”

“No, it’s okay, come in,” Oliver assured her, ushering her towards him with a welcoming wave of his arm.

Thea closed the door almost silently behind her, sneaking across to the small couch beneath the window that Oliver was cradling Lucas in. She sat down at his side, her shoulder pressed against his as she leaned over the little bundle to see the sleeping face.

“Oh my god, Ollie…” she gushed.

A grin split out across his face. “I know, isn’t he perfect?” he said softly.

“He’s so small,” Thea noticed, tracing her fingertip over his chubby cheek. “ Is he supposed to be that small?”

“Apparently so,” he nodded. “Everything’s perfect, they’re really happy with him.”

Thea glanced back towards the bed. “What about…?”

“Felicity’s going to be fine,” Oliver sighed, his gaze growing heavier as he looked over at her. He wanted so badly to gather her up in his arms, but he’d already been given several talks by the nurses for letting her get as much rest as she needed. “They took her back into surgery because of the bleeding, but it was easy to fix. Really common apparently, so they’re giving her a blood transfusion overnight and hopefully we can all go home tomorrow.”

“That’s good,” Thea sighed with a nod, turning back to Oliver and nudging her shoulder against his. “So, your assistant, huh?” she hinted, questioning for the story behind how they’d gotten together. 

“My friend,” he corrected her, his gaze still on Felicity as he breathed out his answer. “My...everything.”

She kissed his cheek. “I’m really happy for you, Ollie.”

Oliver smiled, shaking his head in disbelief as his gaze moved from Felicity to the new baby in his arms. “I’m so happy, Thea...so happy.”

“He’s so beautiful,” she agreed, cooing slightly as she looked down at him.

“His name’s Lucas,” he told her.

“Hi, Lucas…” she whispered.

He shifted his arms slightly. “You want to hold him?”

Thea froze up for a moment. “I don’t want to wake him up?”

“He’s only just fallen asleep” he assured her. “Here.”

They moved carefully to transfer Lucas into Thea’s arms. It was awkward initially, and while Oliver had discovered he was very good at picking the baby up, lowering him back down was still somewhat shaky. Once he was settled, he made a small sound before going right back off to sleep in his aunt’s arms.

“Oh, he is so worth coming home to…” she breathed out, a touch of wonderment to her tone.

Oliver’s hand came down on her shoulder lightly, squeezing it. “How are you?” he checked.

“Not now,” she shook her head, to which he looked concerned, but she cut him off with a smile and a pointed look. “I’m good, nothing to worry about, just...this isn’t about me today. This is about you, and Felicity, and this...okay, seriously, babies shouldn’t be allowed to be that cute,” she huffed when Lucas stole her gaze once again.

Oliver chuckled, placing his palm around Lucas’ head and stroking across his fuzzy hairline with his thumb. “He looks just like her, doesn’t he?”

“I think he’s got your nose.”

He snorted slightly. “Funny.”

“Why’s that?” she questioned.

_ Because he shouldn’t look like me at all,  _ he told himself, but he gave Thea a smile instead. “The doctors said it looked like he had her nose at the last scan.”

She hummed over the laugh she didn’t want to release, and the pair sat in a comfortable silence until she turned to him once more. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?” she asked him.

“I tried to,” he admitted. “You’re home now, that’s what matters,” he added with a smile. Today wasn’t a day for regrets, but for new beginnings.

“Definitely,” she smiled with a pointed gaze after. “I’ve got a future sister-in-law to get to know.”

Oliver let out a small laugh. “Thea…”

The amusement abandoned her eyes, borderline threatening him instead. “Don’t tell me you’re not going to ask her,” she said blankly.

“Of course I’m going to ask her,” he defended quickly.

“Do you have-?”

“Mom’s ring?” he cut her off, nodding. “Yeah, Walter gave it to me.”

“When are you doing it?” she asked.

“Thea, are you okay with me using it?” he checked. “I thought you’d have wanted Mom’s jewellery…”

“Are you kidding me?” she asked, raising one arm up from holding Lucas to bat his shoulder. “Just do it already, Ollie.”

He just laughed, sliding his arm around her shoulder and squeezing it. “I’m glad you’re home, Thea.”

 

\----

 

When Felicity woke properly, she was alone. Oliver and Lucas were both gone, which flooded her with panic, but a nurse quickly assured her that the baby was just in the nursery along the hall being fed by Oliver. Her stomach ached to not be part of it, but she was feeling much better after a blood transfusion and what might be her last night’s undisturbed sleep for the foreseeable future. They took advantage of the baby-free moment to finish her tests and declare her fit to be referred for discharge, and sent the registrar in to complete the birth certificate.

Oliver arrived with a bundle of blankets in his arms, looking mildly exhausted but still softened in a way she’d only seen since Lucas arrived, just as the registrar was finishing, signing up the paperwork in the corner. Felicity instantly pushed herself up into a seated position. 

“Hey, you’re awake…” Oliver said softly, coming over to her side.

“Hey…” she murmured back, bringing her hands up to his cheeks for a greeting kiss.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Better. Much better,” she assured him, leaning over to see the bundle in his arms. “How’s my boy?” she asked, her voice gentle as she stroked her finger over his cheek. Something within her felt more at ease now she could see him. 

“He’s perfect,” Oliver assured her. “They just fed him, we didn’t know when you’d be up.” His gaze moved to the man in the corner, giving him a curious look before he turned back to Felicity. “Who’s that guy?”

“The registrar. They were filling out the birth certificate,” she said, not taking her eyes off the baby. 

“Already?” Oliver asked.

“Yeah, wanna see…” She turned away without waiting for his answer, reaching to the opposite side of the bed where she’d placed the certificate on the bedside table. She watched Oliver sit down in the chair beside her bed before she passed it into his empty hand. 

He read over it, and she could see the smile hit his cheeks when he read the name. Another time, she knew he’d look closer at it and take joy in his name and details under ‘father’, but for now the focus was entirely on their little boy. “Lucas Oliver Smoak-Queen…” he read aloud.

She bit her lip. “You like it?”

He looked up at her, his face telling her everything that she needed to know. “You thought I’d talk you out of the middle name, didn’t you?” he assumed. “That’s why you wanted keep it a secret.”

She nodded. She knew if she’d told Oliver she planned on giving him a claim on the middle name and part of his surname that he’d insist it was too much, but it felt right. Thanks to Oliver, Lucas had a safe home and a loving father. Thanks to Oliver, there was nothing for them to worry about. He’d given them so much and yet taken so little in return. She wanted him to have this - a son, a family. She wanted them to have this together.

“Lucas means light, and Oliver means peace,” she explained. “So...a little light, a little peace, and a little part of each of us.”

“It’s perfect,” he smiled at her, his eyes misting over ever so slightly as he put the certificate aside and bent slightly, kissing the baby’s forehead. “It’s… absolutely perfect,” he whispered.

“Now let me hold my little boy,” she demanded lightly, holding out her arms. “I’ve missed him.”

He laughed slightly as he stood, transferring the content little boy into her arms. She’d only held him once, but already her body accounted for him with ease. She cradled his head in the crook of her elbow. “You’ve been asleep,” Oliver pointed out. 

“I can miss him in my sleep,” she insisted, as her full attention shifted to her son. His eyes were fully open now, she hadn’t been able to appreciate that before, the dark-blue orbs so glassy as they looked around him, settling on her face with a tiny baby-soft sigh that her heart told her was for her.  _ There you are, Momma. Found you.  _ “Hello baby…” she cooed, bringing her lips down to the chubby cheek. He’d be a little chubby baby, she was sure of it, even more so from her own baby photos, and she didn’t mind that at all. “Look at you all snug in your blanket…”

“Hmm, about that.”

She glanced up at Oliver when his voice intruded on her whisperings. “What?”

“Open the blanket,” he prompted, a smile on his face that she couldn’t quite place an emotion to.

She looked at him hesitantly, her hand placed over her son’s bundled form. “But he looks so comfortable…” she protested.

“Felicity...please,” he whispered.

She frowned slightly, wondering if this was a repeated memory of the onesie he’d presented her very early into her pregnancy. She indulged him, carefully unwrapping the warm blanket that shrouded her baby. It revealed a plain white onesie with words printed on the front that she had to tilt her head to read.

_ Will you marry my Daddy? _

She gasped, her hand stilling on Lucas’ chest before she turned to him. “Oliver…” she breathed.

He’d moved closer, perched on the edge of the chair, and between his thumb and forefingers was the same ring he’d shown her after his meeting with Walter. His mother’s ring. His face was shining with a smile so pure, so hopeful… so Oliver.

“I realised I was ready,” he told her. 

She looked between him and the baby. “How did you…?”

“I had the outfit made a few weeks ago,” he explained. “The day after Walter gave me the ring, actually…”

“And you… Oliver…” she broke off, unable to form words.

He smiled, taking her hand in his, the ring just teasing her. “Felicity Smoak… will you make me the happiest man on earth?” he asked with a broad grin. 

“You...want to marry me?” she stammered.

“Yes,” he nodded.

“You really want to?”

“Yes.”

“Like, are you...completely sure?” she checked. 

He didn’t chastise her babbling. How could he when he’d told her so many times it was one of the things he loved most about her? “Felicity… will you marry me?” he asked, dispelling any doubts she had about his certainty.

She swallowed, her eyes tearing up as she looked away from him and down at Lucas. “Can you get the registrar back over here?” she asked, her voice tight.

She could feel his frown settling on her, his grip on her hand faltering slightly. “Felicity?”

“Please, just get him back?” she urged. 

He hesitated, but he got up and motioned for the registrar to come over. “Okay…”

She didn’t even let the poor man speak before she was blurting out her demand. “Hi, sorry. I don’t want to cause any problems, but I want to change the birth certificate,” she told him.

Beyond the registrar, Oliver’s face crumbled, his hands coming up to his face as if he were praying. “Felicity… if this is the wrong time…” he murmured. “I’m sorry…”

“What change do you want to make, Miss Smoak?” the registrar asked.

“Name removal.”

Oliver sucked in a breath, his face pained now. “Felicity,  _ please…  _ let’s just talk about this.”

“I need you to remove ‘Smoak’ from Lucas’ name,” she declared.

Oliver froze, looking at her. “...Felicity?” he questioned.

She raised her gentle smile to him before she looked back at the registrar. “I just got engaged, so if I’m going to be a Queen, then he needs to be one too,” she explained, looking back down at her son before she turned her gaze back to Oliver.

The air was thick with tension as the registrar made the adjustment and left the new family alone. Oliver was leaning over her within seconds of the door closing, one hand cradling her cheek as the other cupped Lucas’ head. “You’re saying yes?” he breathed out.

“Of course I’m saying yes,” she grinned, bringing her free hand up to his neck to hold him close to her. 

“You’ll marry me?” he checked one more time.

She nodded eagerly. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

What happened next went down as one of the top-three kisses she’d rank for the rest of their lives.


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is the final part...this has consumed so much of my entire being that I can hardly bear to say goodbye to this story. I've had the most fantastic time writing it alongside @aussieforgood, who not only brought this story to life with her suggestions and her artwork, she is the one who turned this from a one-shot to a multi-chapter. This has torn me apart in the best of ways to write and I just can't give enough thanks to every single one of you who has read this story and taken the time to give your feedback.

  
  


 

“Dadadadadada…”

It had been going on for a good ten minutes now, a babble that warmed his heart beyond anything he’d ever heard, but finally, the repeated mumble was fading into a sleepy repetition. At seven months old, Lucas was finding his voice, and one of the newest sounds to appear was a ‘da’ sound that accompanied a pudgy hand clasping open and closed towards him. The books said it was all just the baby testing sounds, but Oliver had no doubt that he knew who he was trying to get to.

“That’s right, Dada…” he praised, whispering the word back to him as the half-sleeping child wriggled in his lap, curling up tighter into his father’s embrace.

Fatherhood came so easily, because Lucas was so easy to love. He was happy, healthy, and curious about the world in a way that made them love it all the more. As hoped, he was every part Felicity, from his dusty brown hair (he knew he’d find out her natural colour eventually) to the sparkle in his blue eyes. Because Felicity maintained her natural blonde, everyone always commented how much he looked like his father, and there would always be a shared smile between them before they agreed.

“Cute, isn’t it?”

He looked up from the boy who also looked towards the new voice. In the doorway stood Felicity, leaning up against the open door with a fond smile on her face. She looked tired, but so did he - it was a permanent look of a parent that they wore with pride - already dressed in her pyjamas with Oliver’s hoodie slung over her tiny frame. She’d kept a few curves around her hips from her pregnancy, but most of the baby weight had fallen away from her easily. 

“Are you hearing this?” he asked her with a look of quiet wonder on her face. 

She nodded, lowering her voice as she approached him and crouched down, placing a kiss on her little boy’s head. Lucas’ tiny arm reached out for his mother, who kissed his little hand before he was nuzzling eagerly back into his father’s arms. “He’s been saying it all morning… since you left for work actually.”

He shook his head. “Of all the days to work late…”

“He must have been waiting for you,” she supplied with a smile. 

They watched together as his eyes closed, his breathing levelling out with one hand gripped into Oliver’s shirt. “I think he’s just about asleep…” Oliver whispered, not making any move to place the boy in his crib. Two weeks ago they’d moved him into the nursery at last, letting go of the smaller bassinet that they kept in their bedroom in favour of finally allowing him to sleep on his own in the room Oliver had decorated for him. 

With the baby sleeping peacefully, Felicity kept her voice at a tiny whisper, not wanting to disturb him. “Can I talk to you about something?” she asked.

“Sure, is everything okay?” he replied, still captivated by the content boy in his arms. 

Usually she wouldn’t disturb such a touching moment, because the way that Oliver looked at their son was one of her favourite moments of sharing this experience with him. “Yeah, I just need to tell you something.”

“Of course, you can tell me anything.”

“You love Lucas, right?” she checked, just to hear it one more time. 

“Of course I do,” he whispered, leaning over to kiss the little boy’s head. “With all my heart.”

“Because when I took him to the doctor earlier I got something else checked and--”

Oliver looked up sharply, a concerned scowl on his face. “Is he okay? Is something wrong?”

“Oliver, he’s fine,” she assured him, placing a hand on his cheek. “It wasn’t for him.”

The hand that had been resting on Lucas’ chest flew up to her cheek, cupping it as his concern deepened. “Are you okay?”

“I wanted to see if they could give me something to shake that flu, but they can’t because it’s not the flu,” she explained.

“What are you saying?” he asked her. 

“I’m saying that I’m pregnant.”

He went very still, his hand trembling slightly where it cupped her cheek. “You’re pregnant?” he repeated in a whisper.

She nodded, watching as a smile broke across his face. “We’re having a baby,” she confirmed, before she nodded to Lucas. “Another baby.”

He let out a soft laugh of disbelief, barely more than a whisper “I...I’m having a really hard time reacting to this with a sleeping baby in my arms,” he confessed, clamping down on his lip as something close to a louder laugh escaped him briefly.

“Let me put him down,” she offered, standing and leaning over to take Lucas carefully into her arms.

She didn’t miss the way Oliver’s hand skated over her waist as she moved away from him, taking care not to wake him as she lowered him down. Lucas stirred only briefly as she tucked his blanket around his legs, and she leaned over, kissing the top of his head, hushing him with a ‘goodnight, sweetheart’ that made Oliver’s stomach flip.

When Lucas had settled, she lead Oliver out into the hall by the hand. Lucas’ door was left ajar but they didn’t get far. The moment they were out of danger of waking him, Oliver moved her back against wall and cupped her cheek as he kissed her. It was sloppy, punctuated with grins and soft laughter and gentle touches until they were both breathless and delirious. 

“So...We’re having a baby,” she breathed out, when her hands were buried at the back of his neck and his were skimming over her waist beneath her pyjama top. 

“Say it again,” he grinned widely.

“We’re having a baby,” she repeated, matching his smile.

He leaned into her again, managing to gasp out a “God, I love you,” before his lips were on hers again.

When they next parted, Felicity was up against the wall with her legs around Oliver’s waist, her hands cupped to his cheeks. “This is good, right?” she checked needlessly.

His nod was eager, the grin on his face only cementing his happiness. “This is amazing, Felicity…”

“Because Lucas isn’t even a year old yet and I know I’m supposed to be going back to work and we don’t even have room for another baby here but-”

“But we’ll work it out,” he assured her, cutting off her babble before he kissed her once more, peppering his lips across her cheeks and her jaw before he returned to her lips. “We’ll work it all out.”

“Yeah, we will,” she agreed breathlessly.

“We’re having another baby,” Oliver laughed against her lips. 

Felicity’s daughter came into the world with a deep scowl on her face and an angry scream that made them wonder how they were ever worried about Lucas’ temper as he grew up. This child had spirit, ferocity, a whirlwind of their personalities which was both loving, intelligent, and every babysitter’s worst nightmare. Lucas, in comparison, was a quiet child, eager to love, eager to please, and to no surprise, followed his father around and wanted to be just like him.

But if you asked Felicity what her favourite family moment was, it was the moment that Oliver carried her son into a hospital room to meet his sister for the first time, and he spoke a mumbled ‘jen-toool’ as they held their children in the same embrace and he touched his baby sister’s cheek. Gentle like Daddy told him in the hall, apparently.

Gentle like she always knew he would be.

It was remarkable, really, when she stopped to think about it. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me in the following places:
> 
> tumblr: yespleasehawkeye  
> twitter: @cheeruplovely


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